Somewhere Only We Know
by Turkey in a suit
Summary: The story of a tribute, fated to die. And the story of a Career, fated to win, no matter the cost. Then everything changed. Clovniss, Katniss/Clove
1. Somewhere Only We Know

**A:N/ I'm new to anything involving actual writing, but this is something that I wanted to do for all Cloveniss fans out there. This is specially written for you all! I'm terribly inexperienced, so please pardon all the mistakes. I've tried my best, but English just isn't something I'm good at.**

**Edit1 (August 24 2012): I felt that the starting was slightly too abrupt. So I decided to edit some parts and add in others, and hopefully, the entire chapter flows better now. Enjoy! **

If you were particular about these things, the first time I'd seen her was on the train ride to the Capitol.

We were watching the recaps of the reapings when perhaps the most beautiful girl I had ever seen walked onto the stage of district two and volunteered herself. She wasn't classically gorgeous like the female from district one was, but she was the type to just stand out noticeably in a crowd. Someone you could never miss.

Then a blonde male volunteered himself and the scene changed to district three.

**X_X**

The second time I saw her was on the chariot ride.

The camera paid special attention to pause longer at the more extravagantly dressed and outstanding tributes, and well, she was definitely one of them. There were people screaming out names and cameras trained on our every movement, but the sight of her in that 'row-man' (or whatever it's called) armor held my attention and I studied her from the corner of my eye through the entire ride.

Then the speech from the president was made and the carriages were drawn away from the streets. Her carriage was the second to enter while mine was the last, and she'd disappeared long before I'd arrived.

**X_X**

I saw her again the day after, during our first training session. It was the third time then – not that I was counting.

She stuck close to her district partner, a giant wall made of muscles, and the tributes from one. While the rest of the careers very extremely vocal about their thoughts on each of the tribute's performance, she – Clove, I've learnt her name was – wore a mask of indifference and stayed completely silent unless directly spoken to. She wasn't aggressive like the rest of the tributes, but her silent figure commanded more presence than any of the careers.

And she stayed that way; until she saw Peeta.

A sneer crawled a way onto her features and for the first time since the beginning of the session, she joined in at the insults. Cato looked pleased that he'd finally gotten his district partner to join in on the 'bonding'. I must have just looked defeated. I'd held her in higher regard than the rest of the careers, but maybe I'd been too quick to judge and she was exactly like them after all.

When I turned to look at her again, her gaze was focused right at me, with an expression I could not read. Then she turned away, and didn't look once in my direction for the rest of the day.

**X_X**

It was said that while all careers were trained in the deadly art of murder, those chosen to represent their district were always a huge cut above the rest, with special training and specialization in a weapon of their choice.

I wondered what hers' was.

She hardly looked like the type the lug a giant sword around to decapitate people, but looks could be deceiving. For all I knew, maybe she specialized in giant war hammers. But there was just a way she held herself that reminded me of myself. Something not quite similar, but no exactly far from it either.

I learnt later that she was an expert knife thrower that never missed. Or at least from what I've seen; the knife never drifted from the dead center of the target.

She hadn't seemed really willing to have that news broadcasted until she'd caught me looking at her from the survival station, a good half-way across the room. Was it a warning, I wondered, or was it something more?

**X_X**

That night, long after the whole world had gone to sleep, I slipped through the shadows and pressed the button for the training room in the elevator.

Naturally, I felt a natural urge to reach for my beloved bow, but I held myself back. I was supposed to be asleep then. I couldn't use the targets with the bow without alerting every game maker in the building. Haymitch had recommended that we tried out the survival stations to stay unnoticed, but there wasn't exactly anyone there to stop me, was there?

My hand glided across the numerous armaments on the weapons rack. It was filled with almost every imaginable melee weapon, from the rapier to the war axe, but I found myself studying at a dagger closely as I realized that it had been one of the ones Clove had used earlier in the day. The Capitol-made weapon felt odd in my hand and the handle too cool to my touch.

"You're holding it wrong." My back stiffened instantly as wild panic washed up through me and I turned rigidly to face the unexpected guest. I knew that I was safe – for a few more days at least – but it didn't keep my basic fight or flight instincts from kicking in, surrounded by people who wanted me dead and ally-less in a foreign environment that screamed _artificial. _We were forbidden from using the training room outside of the assigned periods. Everyone else should be asleep by now.

She was just slightly shorter than me, lacking her district partner's towering build, yet managing to look that much more menacing than he ever could. Like all animals, humans had the innate ability to differentiate predator from prey. No matter how idle the gift laid, it's a survival instinct that we never lose. And right now, it made an appearance; predator.

The light blue hoodie looked oddly out of place on the toned figure of the career. It hung loosely – almost casually – off her structure, and coupled with grey track pants she donned, it made her looked so ordinary. Like a better dressed and fed random teenager you could find on the streets of district twelve.

Clove nonchalantly strolled up to me, seemingly unaware of the repercussions we both could face if we were caught breaking the second rule the capitol had shoved in our faces for our short stay, just underneath 'no tribute is allowed bring harm to another'. Beneath her, the mechanized door shuddered to a close, bathing the room in semi-darkness once more and I wondered how I could have missed her entrance before. Her footfalls were silent (practiced) before she came to a stop just before me, and stretched out an arm almost demandingly.

At my lack of reaction, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement and she reached for my hand herself. Her hands were coarse from years of training, yet a level of gentleness I never would have associated to a ruthless killing machine. I didn't make an effort to break free from her grip as she brought my arm forward between us to reveal the dagger that I had previously clutched to my side. "You want to keep it lose," she explained, fingers moving to reposition my grip. "Firm enough that it'll stay in your hand, but flexible, so you'll be quicker and more precise."

All the while, I stood there, standing in mute disbelief. Clove scoffed, "careful. You'll catch flies, fire girl."

After a few moments of readjusting, the career leant back, satisfied with her work. "C'mon, try it out," she prompted.

I took a few experimental slashes to the air, surprised with the new-found ease which I wielded the blade. It made me realize how awkward my grip had been all those years in comparison to the career's more refined technique. Clove nodded in satisfaction and just for a moment, a feeling of pride bloomed within me. "If you've got the chance, stab instead of slash. It's less likely to be parried that way and more effective in bringing someone down. Hand over."

It took me that moment to realize that even when she was demanding for something, there was always this softness in her tone. It was like she was politely asking for something, but phrased in a slightly more intimidating way. The whole girl was so paradoxical. What a strange career.

There should have been fear in surrendering your sole weapon to a trained career no less, but the only thing I felt was a stab of curiosity. I dropped the light dagger gently onto her palm, and instinctively, her fingers grasped the hilt so effortless it could only have stemmed from years of mastership. She fell into a routine of slashes, parries and stabs, battling a phantom enemy. It was an extension of herself, like a bow was mine, and it spoke of kinship forge of sweat and blood.

She ended it off with a final stab, a pleased look on her face and muscles no doubt humming in adrenaline. She shot a smirk my way and stretched out the blade, hilt first in offering. "Now you try."

I took it from her carefully and adjusted my grip to mirror the one she'd shown me previously, my fingers awkwardly moving to fill the unpracticed position. Considering I was someone who'd never had to wield a dagger for purposes other than skin game, I like to think I did quite well, even though it didn't come anywhere near Clove's level. Some parts of me were expecting mockery for my somewhat clumsy attempts, but it never came.

Her eyes followed my actions like a hawk, and her lips stretched into a grin that was almost approval. "Not bad, fire girl."

"Call me Katniss."

She raised that eyebrow in question, but didn't accept or refuse my offer, only giving a light shrug in return. It aggravated me, how no situation seemed to affect the girl beneath the icy and uncaring front. Perhaps it was an act she was so used to it had merged to become a part of her, or perhaps the person underneath was the same person she made herself out to be.

"What's the purpose of all this?" I found myself questioning her with no little amount of anger and confusion fueling me. "Is this some kind of game? To throw me off-balance so you can pick me off like easy prey?"

She shook her head and bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. "You intrigue me. Everyone else is so uninspiring, but not you."

Disbelief settled upon me. "So that's it? I intrigue you?"

The last part came out unintentionally hostile, but the career shrugged it off, no doubt used to being an object of anger. Well, she should be. I doubt a lot of people could stand being in her _infuriatingly nonchalant _presence for long.

"Not what you were expecting, right? Sorry it's not as interesting as a spying attempt to check out the competition, or to throw you off balance before the games," she spoke casually, but it ended up more bitter than either of us had probably expected. "God forbid I just saw you with the dagger and wanted to help you out."

Guilt stabbed at me. I shouldn't have jumped the gun so fast, even though 'good deeds' from careers did deserve at least several moments of apprehension. They weren't exactly known for their helpfulness. Maybe just the aid they lent if you were feeling suicidal.

"Sorry."

"It's ok, I'm used to it."

That peaked my interest. 'Used to it' would imply that Miss Career went around interacting like a normal human being.

As if sensing my new interest, she continued, "Careers are supposed to be glory to their districts. And I won't lie, we're celebrated." Her features meandered into a bitter expression. "They raised us to fight in the games, but that doesn't mean that some parts of them aren't afraid of us; what we're capable of." She gave a short laugh of resentment, and maybe just a bit of sadness. "Can't exactly blame them, it's a smart thing to do – be afraid.

"And they sometimes forget that they were the ones who made us into who we are today."

A silence settled upon us after that unexpectedly emotive confession, and a sense of guilt and doubt washed up on the shore of my conscience. I could so easily imagine how carefully and dubiously the careers must be treated in their own districts. Who would want to be in continual presence of trained killers? They would be trained to distance themselves from emotions and people, to be willing to lay down their lives for a false sense of honor that would be worn down much sooner than they could possible expect.

I couldn't fault them for not being 'normal' if they had never known the word.

"What about you?" My eyes flitted to lock onto hers. "What's your story?"

My story? I didn't know where to begin. So I started with my family; those days when dad was still around, and mom hadn't yet descended deep into the abyss of her mind in an effort to escape her grief. We were poor then, but happy. I told her all about Prim and the smile she seemed to have permanently etched onto her face during those times of happiness. Then I told her about the mining accident, and how everything changed after that.

"I'm an orphan," she shared. "Most of us are. They pick out the fittest kids from the orphanage each year, and offer them food, shelter and a once in a lifetime chance for ultimate glory. The games may seem barbaric, but my entire district lives off it. And lots of the residents like the idea of careers too. Orphans won't be missed. They have an edge to bring back fame to the district, and parents would never have to worry about their kids being reaped. That's what we're for."

I told her about Gale, and against my better judgment and this part of me that warned against 'getting too chummy with a career' – that sounded curiously like Haymitch – told her about my experience with the bow. She looked up in further interest then, and I knew the unspoken question that hung between us. Was I good enough with the bow, and willing enough to kill?

I even told her about how it was Prim's first reaping, my hopes and fears that seemed so far away in the darkness of the training room. Then I ended off with, "what about you?"

We sat in silence for several moments and when I was certain she wasn't willing to share a deeper part of herself, she shifted restlessly on the mat and began. "We were taught since the beginning of our training that there would only be one victor. They trained us with this philosophy in mind; that even though we had allies, they were only good for as long as they were useful, and when they've outlived their usefulness, there's when the backstabbing would begin.

"We had to be independent, cunning and manipulative to survive. Emotions hold no value, so we were never allowed to grow close to each other. We only talked to each other when it was necessary, even tributes of our own gender, because for every one that was allowed to join the games, the other twenty weren't. And that was the purpose for our existence, so we fought endlessly for the opportunity. And a week before the reaping, we would be tested and the top tribute from each gender would join the games."

"Does it get lonely?"

Clove chuckled. "I don't know. How do you know whether you've had enough human interaction?"

A surprisingly strong point.

"I had a sister," she said suddenly. "There was this girl a several years my senior when I first started my training. I had lived in the orphanage my entire life before then, so I didn't know if I had any surviving siblings. We looked really alike, even some of the trainers said so too. But the trainees never spoke to the seniors and she was reaching her last few years of eligibility. We saw each other at the gym sometimes, or even passing through the hallways, but we never muttered a single word to each other and she never gave an indication that she knew me.

"Till she joined the 68th games, we were still strangers. And I thought we would finally speak to each other when she won the games – because she was undoubtedly the best that year – and came back to mentor, but she never did. There was a simple funeral service, and I realized that we would never have the chance to re-connect whatever it is we shared. I had doubts that we were even related, but when one of the mentors passed me her token, I knew."

She took out a necklace from her pocket in the dim lighting, I could make out two simple gold bands engraved with words of love.

"I had the other one."

I couldn't find the right words, so I remained silent. What did you say to comfort a career that had lost everything, even the last of her family to a brutal slaughter which she would be participating in just days away?

Clove stood suddenly and stretched her muscles. "Enough with this sappiness." she shot me an almost feral-like grin that hid a deep sadness of resurfacing memories. "Let's do something that isn't completely boring."

The smile was infectious and I found myself nodding along and curious to what the career had in mind. The girl positively skipped over to the survival section and I just managed to keep down laughter at the completely out of character behavior, but when she turned around to shoot me a grin, I realized that it was her intention all along.

I followed her to the climbing station as she studied the course. "I'm probably not as good as the eleven girl," she remarked. "But it'll do."

I studied her in surprise. So she'd seen Rue too? I didn't know she paid attention to anything other than her knives and laughing at Peeta. Which reminded me…

"Why do you hate Peeta so much anyway?"

She shrugged. "Not really hate, per se. He's competition – everyone is – and at the end of the day, he needs to die for someone else to live."

I felt my heart drop. Was this how she viewed me as well? Competition?

She presented me her toothy grin again, which I had begun to associate with the normally cold tribute. "And he's not even interesting like you are."

I found myself laughing, even though her comment wasn't even remotely humorous. But there was just this certain way she behaved that made me forget the doubts I should have, and the lightened feeling in my chest that didn't make me feel so suffocated anymore. We spent hours talking, just about anything. The weather in district 2 compared to the one in twelve, funny and interesting events that had occurred through our lives. And she even revealed how outstandingly wacky careers could behave given the right circumstances.

"Are all careers like you?" I asked, even though I knew how unique she must be.

Clove snorted. "Hardly. I already feel insulted sharing something in common with people like Glimmer, and Cato."

We both shuddered then. Really, they were perfect for each other.

She looked up to catch my eye and I could see a mischievous sparkle in them. "Any special person back at twelve? Gale perhaps?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Maybe we could have had something, but that would be settling. And I don't think either of us would want that."

The other girl hummed in thought and nodded, satisfied with my answer. And as if suddenly struck by inspiration, she almost bounced. "It just reminded me, we're both named after plants, how wacked up is that? It's like we're kindred spirits."

A giggle escaped me at the complete randomness of it all. "It's like we're meant for each other."

"I like how you think," Clove shot me a wink, and instantly this feeling I couldn't make out nestled within me. Perhaps it was always there, but that was the first moment I took notice of it. It was this warmness and flutter that I couldn't place my finger on, so I pushed it aside for the moment.

"It's getting really late, or early I guess," she sighed. "Want to go catch a few hours of sleep?"

I nodded. I had lost track of the time hours ago, and no doubt, the world would soon be awake. I jumped off the perch I had found above a marble counter at the side of the large room and Clove immediately mirrored my actions.

"Good night, Clove," I smiled as we entered the lift and pressed the button for '2'. The elevator whirled to life and carried us back to our respective floors. With a soft 'ding' the double doors retracted and Clove exited.

She returned the smile. "Good night, Katniss."

My surprise must have shown because she chuckled softly at whatever expression I must have been wearing. With the short wave the doors closed and carried me further up, all the while, a smile stayed plastered on my face. There were many ways that could have been interpreted, but I knew.

For all our doubts and fears, we've developed a friendship, regardless of the impending darkness and chaos. And maybe, just maybe, what we had would be able to survive.

And perhaps blossom into something more.

**A:N/2 And this is it :D The title was taken from Somewhere Only We Know by Lifehouse, because I just so happened to be listening to it when inspiration struck, and I find it oddly fitting. Both of them might seem slightly ooc (Clove especially), but I intended it to be a moment where both of them let go of the expectations of society and simply lived. If anyone was wondering, this is a one-shot.**

**Hopefully, you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and please spare a few moments of your life to tell me how you find this. Even if it's just a short 'Me likey' or 'Me no likey', I would really appreciate it. Thank you all!**

**- Rioshix**


	2. Endless Nights

**Chapter 2: Those Nights**

**A:N/ I'm going to fail my upcoming physics test, I can tell. Incoming detentions for not doing a single piece of homework, which I will probably spend writing more Clovniss. Kind of ironic actually D: But I just love the pairing too much. I'm kind of sure that more than half of you are only putting up with me and reading this because, sadly, there's nothing else to read. **

**I know I said that it was a one-shot, but I've been successfully pressured into writing out this chapter. So I hope you guys will enjoy this, and hopefully like it enough to review :D**

** The Fire Breathes readers (Mary gaga) – I did have intentions on continuing it, but after some consideration, I found that it would be quite tricky to continue. I'm sorry, but if you've got any prompts, AU, cross overs etc. please feel free to submit them and I'll see what I can do. **

I just knew that after the events of _that night_, things would never again be the same. Maybe it was silly hope that I had desperately latched onto, that our conversations had meant something to Clove (as much as it meant to me). It didn't change anything; it was a series of short conversations we shared in the hours of the night. I like to think that I would know. We all did things in the darkness of night that we would never dare consider under the harsh realities of day.

And at the end of it all, it didn't change the fact that we were enemies that would soon be thrown into a slaughter pit. Only one of us would be coming out alive.

"Ok, I've had it with your moping, what's wrong?"

I looked up from the marble which I had been so content to study for the rest of the day. For once, no alcohol was within Haymitch's reach. He sported an annoyed look matched perfectly with folded arms that gave him the appearance of authority. "You weren't so depressing yesterday."

Yesterday. Clove and I had talked yesterday. We were friendly then, weren't we? With a sigh, my gazed dropped down to the table top, perfectly matching my mood, and I prodded and pushed the cold pieces of omelet around the plate. "I'm perfectly fine," I finally declared.

The man snorted and waved to the Avoxes to clear the table. "Fine my ass." He squinted his eyes and studied me in deep thought, making my skin crawl at the scrutiny. "You," he finally said, raising an accusing finger that pointed right at me. "You're love sick!"

This made Peeta look up from his food as he gaped at me in disbelief. I groaned and hid my face under my palms. Trust Haymitch to make assumptions about _my _feelings before I've even begun to study them. However, my reaction provided the implication that the words that had sprouted from the man's mouth held truth.

Haymitch groaned and slumped down on his seat, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. "Katniss, I thought you were smarter than that!" he sounded defeated, like I had stood up to proudly declare I was sacrificing myself honorably in the bloodbath. I frowned slightly, insulted at his tone. "Which idiot did you go and fall for?"

The crease of my eyebrows deepened at the insult. Clove wasn't an idiot! And yet, his words brought a gentle blush to my cheeks, more of the thought of Clove than anything else. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Peeta examining my reactions with an unreadable look he didn't try to mask.

The mentor raised an eyebrow and dragged his chair forward, such that he was as close to me as possible without really moving. Then he leant forward in a conspiring way and lowered his voice such that he was speaking in a low whisper, which was completely unnecessary given the confines of the dining room. "Who is it?"

"That's none of your business, Haymitch!" I groaned as more heat rushed to my cheeks and the pink no doubt darkened to a furious red.

"Ha!" he laughed accusingly, as if he'd successfully guessed the identity of my mysterious 'lover'. He couldn't have, could he? "It's someone you don't want us to know."

Oh, trust me Haymitch. I don't want you to know a single detail of my love life!

"C'mon. I'm sure whoever has your attention wouldn't be that bad," he prodded. Then the curve of his grin leveled grimly. "It's not that Cato boy, is it? Or that Marvel."

I shook my head furiously. Just the thought made my stomach clench and turn inside out. A mischievous gleam shone in Haymitch eyes and he leant back on his chair, beginning to list off every male tribute; if only he knew. When he finished with Thresh, the male tribute from district 11, I had already been so thoroughly embarrassed I fought the urge to hide in some dark corner till everyone had forgotten about my existence. Everyone except Clove, an annoying part of me reminded myself.

Haymitch had his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown engraved onto his features as he sorted out his thoughts. I almost thought that he had finally decided to drop the subject, but his back straightened suddenly and he snapped his fingers in a delusional sense of satisfaction. The proud smile he wore on his face worried me. It was the smile of someone who'd finally figured out a hard math problem, or in this case, the identity of my mysterious 'lover'.

"Unless," he began slowly. "It's Peeta isn't it?"

My eyes widened instinctively at the absurdity of the whole thing and furiously shook my head to banish the thoughts. But my desperate attempts to discourage Haymitch from the idea only seemed to reassure him of his ridiculous assumption that couldn't be further from the truth. He chuckled softly before standing up from his seat, clasping Peeta's shoulder and giving it a good shake.

"Sort this out before the games." He shot us both a wink before grabbing onto a bottle of alcohol and retreating back into his room.

I groaned and gently banged my head on the marble table, almost convinced that if I knocked enough times, the entire ordeal would be forgotten. Damn you, you pig-headed mentor! At least he was the only person dumb enough to believe such an outrageous idea. The universe, however, loved proving me wrong.

"Kat- Katniss I," Peeta spluttered. "I don't-"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but instead, I stood up from my seat and frantically waved my arms.

"Peeta. This is just some dumb idea Haymitch managed to come up with, you know how he is."

He didn't look convinced. "I know that the pressure is getting to all of us, but-"

"But nothing!" I said, as a suffocating feeling settled over me. This was miles away on my list of possible outcomes of the day when I had woken up in the morning. "Peeta, there's never going to be anything between us!"

It was unnecessarily callous of me, but I couldn't have cared less in that moment. A look of pain flashed across his face before I fled the room, narrowly knocking into Effie along the way, who yelped at my unexpected ferocity. And before I rounded the bend back to my room, I could just make out the Capitol woman's complains about my manners, and the half-hearted agreements Peeta gave.

**X_X**

We (Peeta and I) hadn't spoken since the incident in the morning. In fact, I was sure my attempts to avoid him weren't completely one-sided.

A large crowd had already gathered in the training room, all wandering around without a clear destination, going to whatever claimed their interests. My mood was sour and the last thing I wanted was to be trapped in a room filled with strangers that would be trying their best to kill me in a few days' time. But I really wanted to stay, even if it were only to catch a glimpse of Clove and sort out whatever it is we had between us.

Infatuation was something I was hardly used to. I never had time for dating back at district 12, my concentration solely on keeping my family fed and alive. A bitter part of me faulted my mother for abandoning Prim and I, forcing us to grow up much faster than we had to without anyone to guide us across things like puberty and attraction. It was always better to put the blame on someone else, especially a person who probably was culpable.

The atmosphere tensed suddenly as all around me, tributes paused in their actions to eye something from the entrance. My interest caught, I subtly glanced towards the source of all the attention. It was the careers.

All four of them proudly strutted into the room, clearly aware of the attention they commanded. They radiated strength and the show of their unity caused more than a few tributes to sharply turn away. A single career was cause enough for fear; a group of them always inspired dread, anxiety and a morbid feeling of curiosity. Glimmer and Marvel wore smirks as their eyes gleamed dangerously, promising pain to anyone who got in their way. Cato just looked smug like he always did, and Clove? Clove looked disinterested and uncaring to the world, something so much more effective than even the harshest glare.

The knife master's eyes swept casually across the room, and when our eyes connected, the whole world seemed to freeze in that very moment and the hardness in her eyes softened. She broke the connection first; focusing her eyes nowhere in particular, but that one glanced had conveyed a silent message. It spoke of trust, acceptance and reassurance. It comforted me, and filled me with warmth that not even the thickest Capitol quilt could offer. The previous night had meant something to her.

A spark of hope flared down into the darkness of my frantic worry.

**X_X**

Ok, maybe it was unfair to blame Clove for being so distracting that all I could think about was her. So distracting, that the upcoming private session with the game makers had fled to the darkest recesses of my mind.

That was until Haymitch decided he should remind me of it less just minutes before the actual event.

"What do you mean you forgot?" he roared, causing more than a few tributes and their mentors from looking our way.

"Forgot; the past tense of forget. A failure to remember."

"I don't mean explain the word! Out of every day, you just had to forget today?"

I gave a huff of frustration. "It's not like I specifically chose today," I snarked. I had beaten myself enough over it already; his attempts at telling-off me were not appreciated.

"Ok," he breathed. "Keep calm, you'll do fine."

I was calm. But I kept from commenting to prevent ticking him off further. Both of us made our way to the end of the waiting area, the section which our district was assigned. We passed by Clove on our way there, and she managed to slip in an encouraging wink missed by everyone except myself. I really couldn't bring myself to blame her for my lacking memory after that.

Peeta was already waiting for us when we reached there, and he looked away quickly to avoid my gaze. Ok, fine Mr. Tantrum. It's not like I killed your dog or anything!

Haymitch shifted about on his feet in front of us before finding the right words. "Before it's your turn, the game makers would have gone through over twenty tributes already, including all the careers. So you need to show them something memorable, or you'll just end up with an average score." He shifted again, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Try not to suck." Then he left.

A smile grew on my lips, and from the corner of my eyes, I could see one on Peeta's face too. 'Try not to suck' was practically Haymitch-speak for 'good luck, I'm sure you'll do me proud', and though he might try to deny it, a part of him did care dearly for us both.

We sat in silence as one after another, tributes stood and left. They came back with varying expressions but were promptly seen out of the room. The careers in particular, returned with proud smirks. And even though Clove was as expressionless as ever, I could see the satisfaction in her eyes. Just before she rounded the bend, the career turned and shot a feral grin that would have been mistaken by everyone else as a taunt. But knowing the 'good luck' behind the smile, my chest warmed and I passed her a smirk in response.

The entire experience reminded me of the few exams I sat in before I had been forced to drop out of school; the silence of the entire event and restlessness in the air. The stream of tributes seemed never ending, but eventually, the imposing figure of Thresh was led away from the area and I stood up, ready to face judgment.

"Good luck, Katniss," Peeta said, shooting me an uneasy smile which I returned.

"Good luck to you too."

Then my feet led me past the mechanical doors and into the large gym. The whole group of game makers sat on the balcony above the area, where they had the best view of every inch of the large room, including every mistake and blunder. It gave me a sense of unease. Their every action reminded me of hungry hawks, looking down from their perch for any weakness in their prey.

"Katniss Everdeen?" The head game maker looked up from the sheet of paper he held. I nodded. "Excellent. Please begin."

Instinctively, I took to the ranged section and reached for the sole bow hung on the rack. It was lighter than what I was used to and the feel of it felt alien to my touch. I took a single arrow and nocked it, feeling eyes roaming all over me, picking apart my every movement. The target suddenly seemed further and smaller now that my life depended on hitting the mark; muscle memories which had been long since ingrained into me seemed clumsy and awkward.

I aimed my shot and almost instantly, regrets bubbled up. Maybe I shouldn't have taken Haymitch's advice. Anything that told me what to expect would be greatly appreciated at that moment. In a leap of faith, the arrow was released from my grip and as soon as it flew through the air, I knew something was wrong.

It hit a good half feet from the bulls eye.

The laugh from the game makers enraged me, and against my will, I could feel my face heating up. The interest they had shown previously was broken and redirected at food that lined their tables. A wave of cold dread washed up through me. What if that had been my only chance?

"Hey!" I yelled, desperately trying to gain their attention. But apparently, a roasted pig of all things was more interesting than the fate of one pathetic tribute they probably didn't expect more than a mediocre performance from. Then I felt anger like never before. The past few days had flown by so fast in a flutter of events that I never had time to sit down and sort through my anger, hurt and fear. I had chosen to focus on more positive emotions in the hope that they would save me from the darkness I shoved deeply into my mind.

And now they all resurfaced, swirling and merging into a tornado of emotions.

I raised my arrow and aligned it perfectly, all the doubts which I previously had banished in that moment. The shot flew true, right towards the damnable red apple the roasted pig held in its mouth. There was a thud, then silence, but I held the attention of every single game maker.

"Thank you. For your generous attention." A curtsy. Then I left the room without once looking back.

**X_X**

Sometimes emotions drive us into making actions without actual consideration of the consequences. We think, 'I don't care what happens after this, I just want to do it now', and often, we give into temptation. And only until the feelings wear off and we actually sit down to think that we finally realize how utterly stupid and reckless our actions had been. But no matter how hard we wish, there's no taking it back.

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. It was a preservation pride that held no value in the privacy I had found on the empty rooftops of the building. And yet, a part of me held on to my anger and refused to fully regret the actions I had committed.

Distracted from my thoughts, I didn't notice I was no longer alone before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I tensed instantly and struggled against the hold, but when I realized who it was exactly that had managed to sneak up on me, I relaxed into the embrace. There was only one person who was bold enough to randomly go around hugging me.

"The stars are beautiful tonight aren't day?" she asked, and I found myself nodding along to her words. "What's wrong, Katniss?"

The weight on me seemed to lighten instantly as Clove offered to share my burdens. Concern laced her voice so thickly that it couldn't have held anything more than the deepest sincerity and care for my wellbeing. How long has it been since I had someone to lean on? I'd only really known her for a day, but every part of me screamed that I could trust her with my life.

"I messed up everything," I said, trying desperately to keep too much emotion from seeping into my words. "The game keepers weren't looking at me, so I shot an arrow through this _stupid _pig they seemed to care for so much."

Out of the list of reactions I had expected, her bursting out into uncontrollable laughter wasn't one of them. Her arms released the hold they had on my waist much to my disappointment, but she shifted so she leant on the railings next to me and took my arm in hers. "I would pay to see their expressions then."

"Well, I actually saw it," I groaned, and wacked her arm playfully when she giggled. "Stop laughing, Clove. It's not funny!"

"C'mon," she nudged me gently. "You've got to admit, that isn't a sight you see every day."

"Oh, trust me. I would find it funny too if it weren't _me _who shot that damn arrow!"

We bickered back and forth playfully under the stars, and all my worries and fear seemed to magically fade. And subconsciously, we had shifted even closer in the chill night air until the length of our arms touched. She stopped her recount of a funny training accident abruptly and I immediately looked up to see what had caught her attention. Instead, she seemed to be studying my face closely and I asked, "What's wrong?"

Clove shook her head. "Nothing's wrong." Her lips curled into a smile. "Everything couldn't be more perfect."

She stood at an angle where the gentle shine of the moon bathed her in its light, and her eyes shone with such a captivating gleam that I couldn't look away. We stood in silence for several moments before she slowly leant into me and I felt my heart stop. I wanted it. Maybe I would go as far as to say that I needed it. But I just couldn't.

Just as my lips brushed against hers, I pulled myself back, and leant against the railing with this emptiness in my chest that I knew that if I had given in, would be filled and completed in every way possible.

"I'm sorry. But I just can't."

I expected anger, or irritation, but instead of either, she just looked sad and disappointed. She gave me a sad smile brimming with understanding and took my arm firmly against hers. "I understand, it's perfectly ok."

But my chest hummed in pain despite her reassurances because I could sense her pain so distinctively and it hurt me to know that I was the cause of it.

"Maybe someday I'll be able to prove myself worthy, and you'll share that part of you with me. But I'll never force you into something unless you're completely sure," she said, tightening her grip on my hand, and at that moment, I finally managed to admit to myself that I was falling for her. Or perhaps I already had.

I gave her my best smile, and it spoke of promises. Something was holding me back then, but I would figure it out one day. But until then, I knew she would stay by my side.

And we stood together under the moon and stars, until the darkness faded to light.

**A/N: I think this came out much better than the previous chapter, and was easier to write too. Maybe some of you are irritated as how slowly things progress between them, but they're things that needed to be said and done first before they can truly share an unbreakable bond. And whatever it is holding Katniss back? Well, you guys are going to have to figure that one out yourselves (Read: the author doesn't know either D: ). If you have any advice or suggestions, please do pass it on to me. **

**Everything I write undergoes multiple rounds of editing, but I can never seem to sort out my grammar, so if there are any absolutely glaring mistakes, please inform me as well. This is dedicated to the Clovniss and Cloveniss tumblr tags (at least I think that's what they're called) which I am obsessed with, all fans out there and especially those who took the time to review. Thank you all!**

**Rioshix **

**(Some people mentioned Jennifer/Isabelle on tumblr. The temptation is growing every few seconds. Any ideas/prompts? No promises, but feel free to submit them too.) **

**Please, please, please review. **


	3. Flickering Dreams

**Chapter 3: Don't Wake Me **

**A:N/ Do review, from the kindness of your heart :3 **

**Special thanks to all those who favorite, reviewed and put this on alert :D I now officially live for you all! **

**Warning: My grammar is horrible. Years of misuse has left me unable to differentiate correct from wrong. When do you use past and when do you use present tense? Is there an online guide to this madness? **

I snuck through the hallways as silently as possible, sticking closely to the walls and keeping my tread light. Outside, the Sun was steadily climbing towards it peak. The whole world would probably have woken up hours ago, but I clung onto the hope that maybe for that one day, everyone had decided to sleep in. And perhaps my total absence from the area last night would slip their minds.

"Katniss!" No such luck of course. "Where were you?"

It was surprisingly Effie who noticed my presence first and sent me a scolding scowl designed to make me feel shame, or at least embarrassment about my 'lack of manners', but I brushed it aside as a mere annoyance I had become used to.

"About," I said, leaving it at just that. I couldn't exactly tell them that I had spent the night with Clove on the rooftops, at a surprisingly warm corner which we had found and made our temporary residence. It held precious memories now – even though we'd only spent the time as friends. _But soon, _I promised. _We'll be more soon. _

Effie huffed in annoyance while Peeta looked away, still unwilling to meet my eyes. And it was Haymitch, the only one standing in the room that eyed my appearance warily. Then he nodded slowly and motioned to an empty seat. "You look better today," he observed. "Less depressing."

I nodded along to his words. I would hope so. The time that I spent with Clove had been refreshing. It had distracted me from the doubts and regrets that had plagued my mind before, but now that she was gone, they were flooding back like water from a broken dam, except the heavy feeling was lightened, something which she had a great part in.

He clasped his hand together with a loud clap and settled into his chair. "Well, that settles it then," he said, ignoring the looks Effie sent him. She probably wanted to lecture me more about the 'finer details of manners for a young lady'. "Just don't go wandering around before telling us first."

I took a seat and picked a few pieces of rolls, hunger getting to me. I hadn't been able to catch dinner the day before, and while it had slipped my mind, it came back full force then in the form of a loud growl, which Effie looked to in an expression of unveiled disgust. "So, how do you think you did?" Haymitch eyed me carefully. It took me a few seconds, but I finally understood the reason for the look. The scores must have been telecasted already.

Everyone knew how terribly I had done except myself.

My shoulders sagged and I resisted the urge to groan in frustration. "Horribly. Completely embarrassing," I provided, the feeling of unease growing every second. And before anyone could respond to that, I continued abruptly, "I shot an arrow at the game makers."

Effie gasped at the audacity of my action, and I no doubt held the attention of every single person in the room then. Even the Avoxes had stopped uncharacteristically to gape at me in disbelief. "I shot an arrow at them," I explained, before quickly retracting realizing how wrongly it came out. "Not exactly at them, just in their direction. They were ignoring me and I just . . . I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" I ended defiantly.

"And what did they say?" Haymitch spoke carefully, studying me for any clue that it was all a big joke, and I hadn't the recklessness to have done exactly as I had said.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," I said.

"Without being dismissed?" gasped Effie, her eyes wide and face flushed, looking as if she were about to faint at any moment.

"I dismissed myself." Memories of how I had promised Prim that I really would try to win resurfaced and a suffocating feeling settled over me. Did it make all that I had said to her all a lie? Doing something counterproductive for my survival all because of a moment of silly anger? A wave of nausea welled up inside of me.

"Well, that's that," said Haymitch with a shrug. Then he returned his attention to his food, picking up a roll and spreading a generous amount of butter over it. "There's nothing we can do about it now. But the game makers seemed to like you enough." This peaked up my interest. Then Haymitch reached for a roll of papers previously unnoticed at the side of the table and pushed it forward to me. There was no mistaking the bright red 'District 12 gets 11!' splashed on the front page.

At the bottom, there was a portrait I didn't remember posing for. But really, that wasn't what I was really concerned about at the moment.

A gasp escaped my mouth before my brain could even start processing the news. Eleven! Less than ten tributes over the entire history of the games had ever gotten an eleven. Twelve was the unattainable number and eleven was the highest reserved for only the best and most brutal careers. And then there was me, a poor unknown girl from twelve joining the ranks of the elite.

"Do you know what this means?" asked Haymitch, his expression grave yet his eyes twinkling with pride. I nodded, mind still in turmoil. "You've definitely got the attention of the Capitol, and a guarantee of rich sponsors looking your way. But now you've got the attention of the careers too."

Careers. Clove. "How much did they get?" the words tumbled from my mouth without me even thinking much about it.

"In the eight to ten range," he tapped a finger against his chin. "The district 2s both got a ten."

Relief flooded me at the words. Cato was no doubt pissed at being surpassed, but I didn't care about him. Clove got a ten, doing as well as probably everyone had expected. She'll get sponsors. Her chances of survival just stretched that little further. "Ok."

The man raised an eyebrow at my lack of visible expression, then said carefully, "Peeta got an eight."

"Congratulations," I said, giving him my best smile. He tried to return it, but it came up half-hearted. It was a pleasant surprise, and the game makers must have been watching him closely after me since we were district partners after all. But he did well, probably better than anyone had expected. Even Effie seemed pleased with both of us – something completely new. This might be the highest total score our district had ever achieved.

At that moment, Cinna entered the room, a smile on his face. Upon seeing my delight, his smile broadened. "Congratulations." He sounded so sincerely happy for me that it almost brought tears to my eyes before he swept me up in a tight hug. "The girl who was on fire!" he declared and gave me a mischievous smile. "Just wait till you see your interview dress."

"More fire?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

The conversations flowed easily after that, although all of them were about the upcoming interview that night and strategies in the arena. The last bit caught my interest. The only 'strategy' we've been privy to so far was to act mediocre in front of the other tributes, something that held no value since the training scores had been released. The only upside was that while everyone knew of our training scores, they didn't know exactly what we'd done to achieve it. So there was still a sense of mystery about us, something that would no doubt be of great value in the games.

"So the both of you have four hours of presentation with Effie and another four with me for content," Haymitch said. "You'll start with Effie first."

I had doubts that whatever Effie had to teach us would take even close to the assigned time, but she had us working down to the last minute. The first order of business, apparent, was to fit us in 'appropriate clothing'. In Capitol-speak, that meant stuffy suits for Peeta and the silliest and most impractical dresses for me. I silently wondered how Clove was faring. She hated frilly things even more than I did, which said a lot considering who we're talking about.

And then came the most horrible part of my afternoon – the shoes. Of course, the only socially 'appropriate' footwear for women happened to be these impractical shoes (read: health hazards) that disrupt your balance, hurt your feet, and make walking a sheer impossibility. If women had to be subjected to the torture as occasionally as was implied, I really hoped that men damn _appreciated their sacrifice and effort. _And of course, Peeta got off lucky with a pair of sensible shoes.

And he had the gall to complain about them! How would he like to trade? Not looking so confident now are you, mister?

(Note: I actually did scream that last part out at him)

Part of establishing myself as a 'proper young lady' involved learning to not wobble around when walking, maintaining an unnaturally straight posture that made it look like I like a plank taped to my back, sitting _correctly, _hand gestures, eye-contact and lastly, the hardest and most freaking impossible of them all – smiling.

Yes, you read that right. Smiling.

I had to say a thousand banal phrases that started with a smile, required smiling throughout, and ended with a smile. In other words, I spent the better part of the day having an unnatural smile plastered to my face, and making sure to keep my lips or eyes from twitching or the entire process started over again. After the interview, I think I may never smile again. (Or, well, unless Clove happens to do something sweet. Or anything at all really. She smiles a lot whenever I'm around too.)

When the torture was finally over, it was another four hours with Haymitch, which we were both extremely grateful for. Anything would be an improvement from the morning.

Peeta and Haymitch came to a decision about a likable approach instantly. There wasn't any debate or disagreement since they apparently had the same idea right from the start. Then Haymitch spent the next five minutes frowning at me while I look away uneasily, avoiding his eyes.

"What?" I finally asked.

The crease in his brows deepened then he opened his mouth. The main gist of it all? Apparently, I'm a sullen and hostile person who has the charm of a dead slug. Who desperately needs a coupon for a lesson in subtlety? Well, it's definitely not me.

My mind wandered around half-way through Haymitch's string of complains and I wondered what Clove was doing. She'd probably had screamed in frustration at least once in the past hour. Cato probably would have too. When Cato wasn't being smug or busy being the center of attention, he was almost as sullen as Clove. And when you had two unhappy but still very lethal careers in a small room learning manners, who knew what you would end up with.

We gave up on the angle after two hours and decided it would be best I directed my efforts into appearing as non-hostile as possible; which Haymitch helpfully added may not be actually doable. Apparently, that involved smiling. Talk about tough luck.

It was already late in the afternoon when we finally finished the lessons, and the only thing left was a session with the prep team before the curtains would be drawn and my fate would be decided. I held onto hope that somehow, Cinna would be able to make me look so wonderful that no one would care what came out of my mouth.

The team worked on me for the remainder of the afternoon. I went from simple Katniss, to an otherworldly goddess in the span of hours, and before I knew it, it was time. "Just be yourself," Cinna had said, and his words repeated through my mind enough for me to cling onto them as a mantra.

The rest of the tributes were already lined up and ready when we arrive. Peeta was dressed in a flamed accented suit and while we looked well together, it gave me relief that we were not dressed identically. We would all seat in a big arc throughout the interview and at my spot on one end of the bend, I had a perfect view of Clove, with her hair done up and dressed in a beautiful sleeveless dress. She spotted me the instant I stepped into the large room and flashed me a sneer which I returned. It had become our ritual greeting in public.

Or at least, before the games started. From then on, the possibilities were endless.

Haymitch shot us a warning look right before we paraded onto the stage with the other tributes. "Remember what we discussed," it growled.

Just stepping onto the stage was enough to make my heart rate speed up and threaten to burst at the amount of pressure it was subjected to. But despite the massive amounts of nervousness that was flooding every inch of me at that moment, I still found myself being distracted by Clove much too often.

Every citizen of Panem was watching. Every child, parent, student. And this was one screw up I could not afford.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the tribute interviews of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games," Ceasar Flickerman declared as he sprung onto the stage in his signature ceremonial suit. That year, his hair was a freakish powder blue. The audience roars in applause as everyone got ready for the event to begin.

Glimmer, the district one career, took the stage first, in her almost see-through golden gown with her hair and body styled to enhance sex appeal. I didn't miss the hordes of Capitol men who stare after her hungrily, taking in her every word like a sponge to water. Each interview lasted for only three minutes before the buzzer rang out and the next tribute was called onto the stage.

I missed majority of what's-his-name's interview, but my attention was drawn back to the stage the instant Ceasar called for Clove. She walked up to the center confidently and completely owned it with her dry sense of humor and wit. Everything about Clove screamed ferocious and while her entertaining responses took off a bit of the edge and made her more likable to the audience, there was no doubt that her angle was fierce. And it was really just perfect for her.

She left to a thunderous applause and in the crowd, I could see members of the audience muttering to each other as money was discussed and bets were prepared.

Tributes played at ruthless, sly, cunning, intelligent. Some were humble, sincere and intimidating. When it finally came to my turn, I'd already gone through enough angles to make my head hurt, but still, there was none that really struck to me as something I would view myself as.

AS I took the short journey to the stage, I could feel a million eyes on my back, and it comforted me to know that one of them were Clove's. I grasped Ceasar's hand in a firm shake before taking a seat that was inclined to face the audience.

"So Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" He asked.

There were hundreds of ways I could have answered that, all polite and sucking up to the Capitol to gain their favor, but then Cinna's words repeated through my mind, "just be yourself. Be honest." My mouth had gone dry and the audience trained their eyes on me like predators to a prey, silently waiting as I picked the right words.

"The lamb stew," I managed to get out, and immediately resisted the urge to find some corner and hide from the world. Lamb stew. That was the best I could have come up with?

But Ceasar laughed, immediately joined in by some of the audience. "The one with the dried plums?" he asked, and I nodded. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." Then he turned to face the audience with an exaggerated expression of horror, hand covering his stomach. "I doesn't show, does it?" They should reassurances to him and applauded, and from the most uncomfortable seat in the world, the overwhelming sense of relief I felt purged the dread, and with it, some of my doubts.

"Now, Katniss," he leant in confidentially, and immediately, the action reminded me of Haymitch from the day before. "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

From the audience, Cinna shot me an encouraging smile. Be honest, I reminded myself. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I asked, and that drew a big laugh from the audience, an authentic one. Cinna passed me a thumbs up from the front row.

The rest of the interview passed by in a flash, and when the buzzer rang signaling the end of my interview, I was feeling positively ecstatic. It had gone much, much better than I had expected. And as I retreated from the eyes of Panem, relief flooded my senses. I never wanted to do that again, or at least, not with the heavy darkness of the Hunger Games looming overhead.

I remained in a daze for the first part of Peeta's interview, but from the laughs and shouts he elicited from the audience, I was sure that he had them all charmed. My attention was drawn back to him when Ceasar broached the subject of a girlfriend. Peeta had a crush? How come I never knew that? He didn't once mention anything about anyone back home in the days that we had spent together?

And then the whole world came crashing down when he blushed and just managed to stammer out, "because she came her with me."

**X_X**

"That wasn't what we'd practiced!" I shrieked on the way up to our floor. Peeta looked away, and I turned to Haymitch. "Tell him!"

He took a look at Peeta and his gazed softened. "Improvisation, Katniss." He spoke in a way designed to tell me to just drop the subject, but the rage in me refused to be locked away. With an expression of utter fury painted on my face, I pointed an accusing finger at my district partner. "You selfish pig! You didn't stop once to consider what I'll feel, did you?"

I was on the urge of man-handling him when Haymitch grasped my shoulder in warning and pushed me out of the elevator. "He did you a favor."

Then at once my temper erupted. "Then he should have kept his mouth shut!"

"He made you look desirable," Haymitch growled.

"I don't want the whole of Panem believing a lie! What would Prim think? Or Gale, maybe even mom, and the whole of District twelve?" What would Clove think? By then, we'd reached the dining room and Effie hurried in behind us.

"Be reasonable Katniss, he can't take it back now," said Haymitch the same moment Peeta managed to croak out an, "I'm sorry."

'Sorry' wasn't going to fix anything, but I kept the comment to myself. The anger faded and without it fuelling me, I just felt drained. "I'll be around," I sighed. "If you're really sorry, you'll leave me alone." Then I brushed pass Effie on the way out and headed straight for my room.

The dress came off easily and I quickly slipped on a t-shirt and shorts, but I took extra care not to damage it even though I probably would never wear it again. The gems sparkled just as brightly in the dimly lit room and I gently stroked its surface. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever worn in my life, and I silently wondered if I would ever have the chance to wear something as extravagant. Maybe if I were crowned victor, but in that moment, it seemed like a faraway dream. I didn't know how long I spent holding it, but eventually, I let it drop lightly onto the bed and stepped out of the room.

The hallways suddenly seemed suffocating, so I took the journey to the elevator and pressed the button for the rooftop.

When the double doors of the life opened and I stepped into the night air, I realized that I wasn't alone. "Clove," I looked to the silent figure of the career, standing alone at a corner. She turned to me promptly, but when something in her eyes hardened, I instantly knew something was wrong. "Katniss," she greeted.

Her eyes were rimmed red. She'd been crying.

"Oh, Clove," I breathed, moving forward to engulf her in a hug. But before my arms could reach to encircle her, she'd pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"It's him, isn't it?" She asked.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "It's who?"

"Peeta," she growled his name. "Last night. That was why you pulled away, isn't it? You love him."

My eyes widened in shock as my mind processed it. I'd thought that Clove would be upset, but I hadn't expected her to come to such a conclusion. "No, Clove, you don't understand-" You can't throw away everything we have based on a small misunderstanding!

"Tell me what I don't understand, because I'm think I'm seeing things really clearly now!" she stalked off angrily to a corner of the area, her anger radiating like sparks that warned against getting too close.

"I- "

"Tell me that you love me Katniss," she pleaded. "Tell me that we're going somewhere with this."

I tried to. The words were just on the tip of my tongue. But every time I tried to force them out, they were caught in my throat. She looked so hurt – so stricken.

"Then it's obvious that I've been mistaken," she said, trying to school her features into a mask of indifference. "Good bye."

She left, and I watched her go wordlessly.

I couldn't, and wouldn't make her a promise about something I'd only just begun to sort through myself. I thought that I had more time; that I wouldn't have to be forced into such a situation so soon. I knew I loved her, but just wasn't sure if I were _in love _with her, and it would have shattered Clove if I'd given her a false promise and I didn't have the feelings for her that she had for me. It was the best thing to do.

But I wondered if I had done the right thing. Because when she'd walked away that night, she'd taken a part of me with her.

**I have this feeling that a lot of you are glaring at the computer screen and plotting against me, but it was necessary D: Really. Peeta's being delusional, Katniss can't seem to just say what she means (she doesn't know what she wants yet) and Clove is just too stubborn and insecure to just stop and listen. It all seems like some drama serial now. **

**This particular chapter was, I feel, the most messily done. I couldn't come up with an alternate interview that didn't follow cannon, but hopefully, I will never have to copy, paste and edit to such an extent ever again. **

**You all know what happens after this… the games are starting! I'm strongly considering putting everything in present tense since I can't go a few sentences before using wrong tenses. **

To: BFCL - Actually, I had that in mind when I wrote that part. Spot on :D

**Thank you all for reading, and as always, you are very much encourage to review. **

**Rioshix **


	4. Curtains Drawn

**Disclaimer: (I tend to forget this) I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters and I am in no way profiting from this. So please don't sue me, or I'll go from poor to broke. **

**Warning: This chapter is slow. Yes, even slower than the previous ones. Not a lot of things happen here, but I swear the next one is more interesting!**

** Lack of much human interaction. Just Katniss to keep you all company. **

I'd thought that I would cry, but the tears never came, and I just ended up feeling more lost than I had ever been – the moment I'd heard the news of Dad's death included.

Did it make me a bad person? To have completely lost the trust of one of the most important person in my life, but hadn't been able to manage squeezing out a few tears? It was supposed to be the 'big day' that I'd been preparing for ever since I'd volunteered for Prim in the games, but I was just tired and drained from the few hours of sleep I had managed to catch the day before. I lay on my bed soundlessly until Haymitch came to knock on my door with a call of, "breakfast," and I knew it was time to face to world again.

Effie was silent for once and the entire table looked uncharacteristically gloomy. My defeated expression and Peeta's refusal to meet anyone's eye didn't help matters either, and we just settled for a silent breakfast before the games began. And before we were led off by our stylists for the final dressing and preparations, Haymitch paused from his meal to look us both in the eye. "Stay alive," he said. And those could be the final words we would hear from him.

Cinna helped me dress with the assigned clothes from the Capitol. They stank of newly processed fabric, but they were the only ones I would probably be getting and the dull colors had a forest theme that reminded me of district twelve, and along with it, Prim and everyone else I had left behind. The entire attire – from jacket to the boots – fit me perfectly. It was durable and flexible enough not to restrain movement, and I was content.

Before I left, Cinna reached into his pocket to retrieve the golden mockingjay pin and wordlessly pinned it on the collar of my shirt. He gave me an encouraging smile and gripped me in a tight hug which I returned. "Good luck. Stay safe, Katniss," he whispered. Then the peacekeepers led me away from Cinna, the only constant friend I'd had since the reapings.

Clove plain out avoided me on the ride to the arena.

Out of sheer luck, we were assigned to sit next to each other, but I couldn't find a way to communicate with her without letting everyone know that there was something other than mutual dislike between us. Perhaps it would be better that way, I thought. No matter what we were – acquaintances, friends, lovers – there was no denying that in the arena, we were all enemies. The only factor was how long the pretense was kept up. How long an alliance held before the backstabbing began.

I wondered what last night meant for us. While neither of us had verbally agreed to an alliance, it was mutually understood that neither of us would go out of our way to harm the other. But she was in the Career's pack, and I was over at Team Katniss (which sadly just consisted of myself) and the two main alliances would have to battle it out sooner or later. And with the huge shift in our relationship the day before, who knew where we stood.

Had our entire friendship been demolished? Would we have to fight each other to the death during the bloodbath?

I studied her from the corner of my eye. She may now hate me, but I didn't think I could harm her even if my life depended on it. What did that mean?

A large shadow moving to block the light from my vision brought me out of my thoughts and I slowly looked up. "Hold out your hand," the Capitol woman instructed impatiently, holding up a menacing looking syringe. I dubiously stretched my arm towards her, but she simply grabbed in a tight hold and injected something into me. I flinched, more from the coolness of the needle than actual pain. It was a tracker, I knew. The Capitol didn't want to lose track of their play things in all the 'excitement'.

The used syringe fell onto the metal tray of the pull-along trolley with a loud clank and the woman drew out another similar syringe. Clove already had her arm out. She didn't flinch, wince or allow a single expression to make its way onto her face. It warmed me to know that regardless of how much had changed, she was still the proud and fearless career I knew.

The hovercraft landed about half an hour later, descending underground beneath the arena where the launch points were located. The vehicle was windowless, but I could tell when it hovered unmoving in the air, then dipped down to the ground. It was a completely new sensation – it felt that while my body descended, my insides hung in the air for a moment longer before being dragged down.

I heard that years ago, people used to find entertainment in these sort of things; riding on a giant cart up a track and following it as it swerved and dipped dangerously downwards.

It was thrilling, I supposed; feeling the rush of adrenaline though your veins. And I may have enjoyed that kind of feeling under different circumstances – without my breakfast threatening to escape at every sudden movement. Then the flying hunk of metal came to a shuddering stop. And with a mechanic _swoosh, _the piece that made up the 'door' of the hovercraft was released, and it unfolded neatly into a bridge-like structure that allowed us to cross safely onto a separate platform.

"Everyone out," a peacekeeper commanded and nudged the muzzle of his rifle towards the exit.

From my left, Clove was the first to stand, and around us, tributes followed suit with varying expressions and began the walk down to our launch points. For many of them, it was a journey to the gallows. Twenty-three would die in the span of around two weeks. And many wouldn't live past that day.

"Stand on the platforms," an employee pointed to a collection of metal plates arranged in a semi-circle. Each one had a district number and gender printed on its surface, the only feature telling the identically designed platforms apart. I found mine further towards the left end of the curve and almost instantly, a transparent tube descended to encase me and the platform began to rise. I let my fingers gently graze the surface of the tube as I ascended.

There went my last chance of escape.

Sunlight bathed me in its warmth and I could feel its gentle glow caressing my skin. It was a welcomed change from the artificial lighting of the Capitol I had experienced for the whole of my stay. But I knew that in truth, the 'sunlight' was just an artificial as anything Capitol; it was just designed to be more realistic. I felt a pang of sorrow, knowing that tributes that fell in the arena – and perhaps myself – wouldn't even be able to see and feel one last moment of natural sunlight, an escape from the arena and back to their previous lives in their respective districts.

I felt the breeze the same instant my nose picked up the promising scent of pine. My spirits soared. Pines meant forest, and forest meant somewhere to hide and a source of food and water. My chances of survival had just been multiplied.

Then I spot the Cornucopia, a metallic horn-shaped structure that glittered under the light. It held all sorts of products that gave us life in the arena: food, water, weapons, garments etc. Then littered around it were other items, decreasing in value the further they were from the Cornucopia. You could run straight for the cover of the forest, but just a small detour would allow you a potentially life-saving product. It would just take a few steps. And a few steps could be enough for someone to drive something sharp into you, and then it would be over.

The gamemakers were tempting us, and around me, tributes' eyes were beginning to stray from their previously certain destinations. Many would take the risk, I realize. There would be many deaths that day.

Then I heard the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, as his voice boomed through the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

I'd been standing on the platform for close to a minute, and up in the sky, the countdown timer neared the thirty second mark.

Thirty seconds could be such a long time away, I thought, looking at the careers. Then again, it seemed like I could just close my eyes for a second, and when I re-opened them, the seconds would have gone by in a flash and the chaos would begin.

The seconds were down to twenty-five, and again, I considered my options. I could run straight for the trees, and my legs would carry me far from the bloodshed and I would most probably live for another day. I could hear Haymitch's instructions repeating through my mind. "Run as far away from the Cornucopia as possible. Find a source of water. Live."

But it was so tempting. I reminded myself that it was what the Capitol wanted us to do – run in straight to the slaughter – but the bounty's sitting there ripe for the taking. And immediately, the thought of running away empty-handed seemed that much more undesirable. I could almost picture Haymitch's disapproving stare in my mind, but I pushed it aside, and chose to let my eyes sweep around the arc again. The careers were more or less spread out, but whether that was an advantage for the rest of us, we were still waiting to find out.

Ten seconds left on the clock. I thought of Clove.

I could feel regret seeping deep into me. How I wished we were back on the rooftops. It could have all went differently, I thought. Even if I could never have returned Clove's feelings then, we could have left on a better note, or anything that wasn't icy cold or burning hate. There were so many things I still needed to know, and so many things I needed to say to her. And dying before I could accomplish all that seemed like such a waste. So I decided that I would live. So that I could give both of us the closure we needed, if nothing else.

I could see the glinting silver of a bow and a quiver of arrows beside it, practically a beacon beckoning right at me. And I would go for it, I decided. Because it was my best bet of survival in the later stages of the games.

It was down to five, and I spared myself a second to give a possibly last look to Clove, memorizing every inch of her features. She looked right into the heart of the Cornucopia, her body readied for a dead sprint. Then I noticed Peeta from a few plates away, looking right at me. He seemed to be shaking his head, as if warning me against going in for the bow. But I couldn't be sure, since the light was in my eye, and I frowned. He was mouthing something at me.

Then the gong sounded, and all around me, tributes left their plates, all taking off in different directions.

And I'd missed it! The bow suddenly looked that much further away and I scampered off the platform with conflicting thoughts running a hundred miles per second through my head. Then I pushed myself off towards the trees, running right at an orange backpack that could hold anything, or completely nothing at all. But I couldn't bear to leave the Cornucopia empty-handed with the knowledge that I could have gotten _something_.

There was the pounding of feet, but no cries or yells of pain had erupted yet. I bent down slightly to scoop the bag up, but when I rose, I almost fell from the sudden resistance as a male tribute pulled the backpack backwards. We struggled for it, and just when I thought he was about to gain the upper hand, his grip suddenly went slack, and warm blood splattered onto my face. I staggered back in surprise, with the backpack now unchallenged in my arms.

Then I see her, standing just ten yards away, with her arm extended in a completed throw. And the boy was limp on the ground, the hilt of a knife protruding from his back.

Clove looked at me, and I stared back. And then around us, the entire area exploded into chaos.

'Run," she mouthed, hands filled to the brim with an assortment of knives, and I didn't hesitate to turn around and head straight for the forest. I silently wondered if she would throw a knife at my back, just as she'd done with that nameless boy. I'd seen her throw; she never missed. No, I reassured myself. Clove wouldn't do that.

But that wasn't the Clove who'd held me after the private trainings and whispered encouraging words in my ear. That was an angry and hurt fuelled version.

When I feel a gentle pressure at my back, I wondered if that were it, and I was gone for good. But then three, six seconds passed and there wasn't any pain, and I just _knew_. My lips twitched upwards into a smile. Though I didn't check then, I knew that if I had, the sight of a knife lodged into the front of the backpack would have greeted me. Thank you Clove, I thought.

I continued running until the woods had completely enveloped me, then I slowed down to a jog that I would be able to maintain for a while. I didn't dare check the content of the bag yet, but I freed the knife – a fine one with a long sharp blade, serrated near the middle so that it would be handy for sawing through things – and slipped in into my belt. I sent a prayer for Clove even though I knew she would be fine. She was strong.

I alternated between running and walking for the next few hours, stopping only to check for pursuers. I needed to put as much distance between me and the Cornucopia as soon as possible.

I kept an eye out for water, following Haymitch's second instruction. No such luck. But as I passed yet another tree, I wondered if the moment Clove and I had shared in the Cornucopia had been broadcasted. There was a chance that it was missed in all the excitement, but as far as I knew, Clove had drawn the first blood. Something like that wasn't missed. Especially if there was a possibility of a confrontation between 'the girl with the eleven' and 'the career who supposedly hated her guts'.

It would be the biggest news since Peeta's revelation the night before. People would talk, and though it would remain unknown in the cocoon that was the arena, I wondered how everyone took it. Gale would be doubtful of Clove's intentions, but Prim would be happy at the prospect of me gaining a new ally. And me? It was as if a giant weight had been lifted off me. The overwhelming relief providing me hope for the future.

And it's late afternoon, when the cannons started firing, that I remembered Peeta.

I might have been mad at him, but concern surged through me and it quickly gave way to fear when I counted the cannon shots. Eleven. That was almost half of all the tributes. And I thought of Peeta, who'd been so sure he wouldn't make it out from the arena alive. He could be bleeding out from a wound somewhere, or maybe he was already dead, ready to be picked up, cleaned and shipped back to district twelve in a wooden box. I tried to think of where he'd headed when the gong had sounded, but all I could remember was him shaking his head, and mouthing something I hadn't been able to catch.

A sudden feeling to tiredness engulfed me and I slumped down against a tree, shrugging off the backpack. I wouldn't get to know till night had descended. It was time to see what I had to work me.

I was parched with thirst and cracks had already found their way onto my lips. Water is always the first priority, I reminded myself. I could go days without much food, but without water, I wouldn't last long. I unhooked the straps holding the backpack close and spilled its contents onto my lap. It was sturdy and would last for a decent amount of time, though made of an unfortunate color that completely lacked discretion. I mentally took not to camouflage it as soon as possible. Rolling it around in the mud and letting it dry would do.

There was one thin black sleeping bag that reflected body heat, a pack of crackers, a pack of dried beef strips, a bottle of iodine and other items sprawled across my thighs, but I paid them no attention and immediately reached for the half-gallon plastic water bottle. My fingers felt particularly clumsy in my haste to unscrew the cap and the moment it's free, I peered down its opening to inspect the contents inside. Burning frustration sparked from inside me and I let the bottle slip out of my grasp and into my lap.

Dry. Not a single drip of liquid inside.

How hard would it have been for the gamemakers to fill up the bottle? They wouldn't even have needed to do it, but just assign the task to some Avox.

I became more aware of the sweat collecting in my brows and dryness in my throat. It'd been hours since I'd last held water to my lips, and staying hydrated was rapidly becoming an alarming issue. Then dread washed up me as a thought filled my mind. What if the lake near the Cornucopia was the only water source?

It was something that had been done in the past, used to draw tributes in for fights. Death by another tribute's hand or a slower and much more agonizing one by nature. I could make the journey, though it was as much as a full day's travel, and a significantly harder one with nothing to drink. But what next when I arrived? The Cornucopia was as far as I knew of, Career central. Even if I were armed, I stood next to no chance against four trained careers simultaneously.

With Clove's help, it would be a much better odd of two to three, something workable. She'd saved my life once and spared it after, but would she be willing to risk her own life for mine?

Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but logic fought for solid ground in my consciousness and I tried to piece together scattered thoughts. I could hear the calls of birds and other insects. I'd seen a fair share of muttations and animals during the long journey. I allowed just a bit of relief to alleviate the fright I felt.

They must have been drinking from somewhere. Somewhere close by.

Then my hunger made its appearance known, not quite in a growl, but a demanding whine. I reach for the dagger I hung securely from my belt and worked on a nearby pine tree, taking out the outer bark to reveal the softer inner bark. I took a large scrape off it and chewed on it while I walked along, no path in mind but only a clear goal of water. It was harder to take after my week of the finest gourmet food, but I swallowed it without complaint.

The beef strips and crackers were packed safely in my bag, stored away for times where food was scarce. No point in wasting precious rations just a day into the games.

I combed the forest for any trace of precious water, but only found myself more tired and frustrated than before. And by then it became clear that I needed to set up camp. I knelt down and scoured my bag for the small coil of wires and set two twitch-up snares in the bushes. It immediately reminded me of district twelve, and the rich forests that had started feeling more like a second home as time passed. Thoughts of home usually led to memories of Prim and Gale, but instead, in the rapidly descending darkness of the arena, I thought of Clove.

Those days, nearly everything reminded me of Clove.

Clove animatedly speaking, Clove laughing, Clove and I sitting under the soft glow of the moon. What did that mean? My subconscious was trying to show me something, but it might as well have been speaking in a foreign tongue. There was this warmth that flourished in my chest whenever I spent time with Clove, but it wasn't completely unlike the one I felt when I was in the company of Gale, or even occasionally Madge. Where was this 'line' that separated friendship from attraction, infatuation and love?

I wished someone would have taught me those things. I was going in blind, not knowing what to expect at all, and the feeling terrified me.

The anthem booming throughout the arena derailed my train of thoughts and with a blink, the seal of the Capitol was projected high up in the night sky, freely visible to any tribute who took the effort to look for it. The first to appear was the girl from district three, and a rush of air left my lungs in relief. Clove was just fine.

Nine more faces flashed across the inky expanse and I recognized the face of the boy who I'd fought for the backpack, his face completely void of emotion. The picture was taken days before the games, when he probably held onto a flicker of hope that he would make it out alive. And then he was dead. Death waited for no one, and I silently wondered if he'd known, even before the knife had slipped into his back and his life had left him in one final gasp.

One tribute left. Could it be Peeta? The face of the nameless girl from ten flashed across the screen and the Capitol seal was back. Then it disappeared, sending the arena back into darkness' hold.

I was relieved he was still alive. We've had our disagreements, but that didn't mean that I wanted him dead – at the moment at least. Only one person would make it out alive, but I took comfort in the fact that all three of us would live to see another day.

Even with the sleeping bag, the rough bark of the tree cut into my back and I struggled to find a comfortable position. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and I had to be as prepared as possible. Thoughts flitted through my mind in the silence of the night, but I did my best to quiet them until they became nothing more than mutterings in the background.

In the cold arena, away from everything I'd ever known, sleep did not come easily.

But when I did settle into sleep's embrace, it was to Clove's laughter, and the feel of her arm snaked around my shoulders, holding me as we dreamt of somewhere, anywhere.

A place that held peace neither of us knew.

**Remember certain parts in the story where Katniss took apart and studied her relationship with Clove, and she asks herself, 'what did that mean'? I really wanted to scream at her then. You love Clove, now go find her and be happy forever! Stop being so plain depressing! Then, you know, I remembered that I'm the author… It sucks to know that I constantly frustrate myself when I write. Katniss's confusion is confusing me. **

**I know that this chapter is quite slow, with more ramblings that action. The beginning follows quite closely to the book, but from the next chapter onwards, Clove's actions would start having a larger impact on the games. **

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews :D **

**I would like to end off this with a question: when does friendship end and love begin? **

**I think this is a question that is widely subjective to personal opinions and everyone has their own unique ideas, but this is the main theme of the entire story. Does friendship have to end for love to begin? Or can they co-exist together between a pair? There is no clear answer, but this is Katniss finding out. And somewhere in the arena, Clove is figuring out for herself as well. **

**Rioshix**


	5. Messages Through A Dream

**Chapter 5: Messages Through A Dream**

**WARNING: This is friggin long! Please believe me when I say I tried to summarize the chapter, but found that this really, really long one turned out slightly better. Could you guys please let me know what you think? I think taking out the parts that completely reflects the events of the book (just phrased differently) would make this more pleasant to read. **

**Or should I leave it the way it is so people who haven't read the books or watched the move in a really long time could get something like a refresher? **

I awoke to the sound of branches snapping.

Instantly, a feeling of unease settled into the pit of my stomach and I reached out my arm, seeking the familiar warmth of body heat. Cold; there was no one beside me, nor had there been for a while. Prim! The nervousness tightened into panic as I waved my arms about wildly, almost falling off the tree as my mind was consumed by the single need to locate my lost sister.

Tree. Sleeping bag. Memories of the past week came flooding into my mind, like the waters that drowned mines after particularly bad storms. I was in the Games. Prim was safe, back home at district twelve.

I felt my body relax as the tension left me, and I slumped back onto the thick branch of the tree. Through the cover of the thick branches, the gamemakers probably hadn't caught that, and I hadn't made a total fool of myself on national television. Blinking quickly, I tried to clear the webs of sleep from my mind and my palms moved to rub the weariness from my face. Only one day, and I'd already started to become paranoid. Maybe it would lessen the more night I spent in the arena, but I don't think I could ever get used to it.

Snap! I could hear it again. What was going on? That wasn't the sound of branches under someone's foot as they made a clumsy trail through the woods, but rather the sharp crack that came directly from a tree. Somewhere to my left, about ten yards away, someone – or something – was definitely not asleep; or caring that they were making enough noise to draw the attention of anyone within a hundred yards.

Snap! Snap! There was darkness and complete silence for a few seconds, but then a spark flickered, and before I could blink, small flames consumed the wooden branches fully and bloomed into a fire. A pair of decidedly feminine hands moved over the flames, seeking every inch of warmth the fire had to offer. It didn't take a genius to realize the spot I was put in.

I was stuck next to a glowing beacon while the entire arena was consumed by darkness.

I pushed down the urge to scream at the fire starter to put the flames out, yelling every foul word at her while at it. But I'm afraid to leave the safety of the branch. Exposure was something I wasn't willing to risk, not even for a few seconds. What time was it? Four, five hours past midnight? Dawn wouldn't come for a while, and who knew what could be lurking in the forest. I'd watched enough games to know that trouble came when you least expect it.

Two minutes had past, and I was too afraid to even breathe too loudly. The unease hadn't subsided and instead, grew steadily over time. My eyes darted around nervously, surveying the area thoroughly. What was it people in the seams repeated like a mantra? 'Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.' Right then, it would have been oddly appropriate if a muttation had burst out from the dense woods, snarling and angry, not pausing for a moment before ripping my new neighbor limb from limb.

But instead of a muttation, my ears picked up several pairs of feet pounding on the ground. I couldn't identify how many people there were, but only that they were getting alarming closer every passing second.

The fire starter seemed to remain blissfully ignorant of the danger heading her way, but I could tell the instant she did when she shot upright and scrambled into the trees, hands empty of any possessions worth holding onto. Beneath me, the flames danced. For a few seconds, all I could hear was the hammering of feet; then the screaming started.

The sound made my stomach lurch. There was desperate pleading that was push aside with mocking laughter and the boom of the cannon filled the night.

I could hear the hoots and laughter as tributes celebrated the kill. It sickened me; I was glad the girl had ran and I hadn't been forced to watch her death play out. I forced my heartbeat to calm and stilled my movements totally. The footsteps had started up again, and they were heading right in my direction.

"That was fun," someone chuckled and it was immediately received with loud cheer. My heart froze. I recognized that voice – it was Clove.

One by one, the careers left the cover of the shadows. They looked fresh from the thrill of the hunt with a gleam to their eyes that could only be described as _predatory. _

I studied Clove's appearance carefully. She looked healthy – physically at least – and I was relieved, even though she'd just helped kill a defenseless girl only moments before. I wondered how deep my feelings for her ran, for me to know that she'd tortured someone to death and feel only concern for her wellbeing. But then she turned back to the trees and snarled, "coming, lover boy?" and my eyes left her lithe figure for the first time they'd found her.

It was Peeta.

Clove shoved him roughly, almost causing him to trip onto the rough forest ground beneath. I saw the look in her eyes – she would have loved to humiliate him. "Make no assumptions bread boy. We'll kill you the moment you outlive your usefulness."

The other careers loved the hostility Clove was showing and I'd watched enough games to know the Capitol did too. Peeta definitely didn't look fine. Many cuts and bruises that adorned his skin and his face was almost swollen with bruises. One particularly painful fist-shaped bruise was proudly situated on him temple, its form matching Clove's knuckles perfectly. I'd thought that Clove would kill him the moment he found himself within range of her deadly knives, but there he stood, looking worse for the wear but completely intact, standing among careers no less. What had happened?

As if sensing my question, Cato smirked. "Don't worry so much, you'll join your lover as soon as we find her."

I swore it wasn't even remotely funny, but the district ones' laughed anyway. Peeta wisely kept his head down but Clove positively glowered. The remainder of the group looked amused, but they had no idea why one of their members was so pissed off at the words; I did.

Jealously was a strangely attractive trait on her, I thought.

I remembered Peeta back at the cornucopia, shaking his head and mouthing something to me – warning me against going in for the prizes. He'd planned to throw himself into the bloodshed all along. My blood burned; that hypocritical pig! I would plot his death myself if I weren't bound by my gratitude for what he'd done years ago, but I certainly wouldn't stop anyone – particularly Clove – from taking him out. First the incident at the interviews and now that; no more mind games, I promised.

"Let's go," Clove barked, heading back into the trees without waiting for a response. With a shrug, the two tributes from district one followed after their ally and Peeta tagged along wordlessly.

Cato looked displeased that Clove was challenging his authority over a group that was 'supposed to be' under his leadership, but clearly decided that it was better to keep his partner happy when he threw the flames one last look before retreating back into the darkness.

And unnoticed above them, I finally breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out my limbs to warm the muscles.

I'd picked my camp for the night because of the concealment it offered but all in all, it had been an appreciated stroke of luck that the tributes had never thought to look up. Beneath me, the flames danced to a soundless rhythm. I wondered if it had been worth it; had the girl needed it so desperately she'd willingly risked her life for the warmth of fire, or had she been too naïve and reluctant to part with the comfort? I wondered what she'd thought when she'd taken her last breath.

And I fell asleep, watching the glowing embers die.

**X_X**

I dreamt of beautiful cat green eyes.

**X_X**

When the gentle rays of sunlight greeted the arena, I was plotting.

While I may have been concealed from the cameras the previous night, the Capitol no doubt knew of my presence throughout the entire incident. They were going to be eyeing my reaction carefully. Any hints of grief, betrayal or anger was going to be broadcasted across Panem – they would make sure of it.

What I needed to do was make sure whatever emotion I let them capture would be to my benefit. Peeta had torn down the 'star-crossed lovers' act the moment he'd teamed up with the careers, and while we could still possibly play it off as an strategy to manipulate everyone, I didn't want to even imagine being cordial with him at the moment. Fear and anxiety were out; I needed to let the sponsors see that I was confident and able to adapt quickly to new changes.

The Sun climbed steadily overhead and I knew I had to face to world soon. I quickly packed up and carefully slid off the tree, giving the cameras enough time to lock onto me. Once I was sure I had everyone's attention, I cocked my head slightly to the side and shot them a knowing smile. Inside, I was bouncing in glee. There! Let them figure out what it meant.

A healthy looking rabbit waited for me at one of the snares I'd set up the previous night. For once, I was grateful for the cameras that hounded after me. The sponsors would know that I could hunt and wouldn't fall prey to hunger as easily as most tributes would. The meat was rough and dry, reminding me of water which I didn't have.

I hiked in the opposite direction of the careers.

The Sun rose steadily in the sky and my thirst began to make its presence known through a pounding in my skull. How long has it been since I last had water? My father told me once that we could last only up to three days without water. One day had past, and I was so lethargic I didn't think I could go on much further. But I continue to drag myself further down the valley.

Even my fear of the careers was minor compared to the burning thirst that coated my throat and mouth. I chose the shadiest trail to avoid the loss of precious body fluids through sweat. It was midafternoon when I finally collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. There were only two options for me then: return to the cornucopia or wait for rain.

I could never make it back to the lake even if I had wanted to and there wasn't a cloud in sight.

Then a thought hit me and the relief brought me to my senses. Haymitch! He could send me water. I may not necessarily be the most popular tribute but there had got to be someone rich enough to send me a pint of water. So why hadn't he? Maybe it's because he didn't know how desperately in need I was, I thought, not willing to consider the other option.

"Water," I croaked, as loudly as I dared to. I sat there on the harsh beaten ground in wait. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. When five had ticked passed, I had to face it – Haymitch was not sending me anything.

Anger lent me strength to pull myself up to my feet. Fine! Maybe he hated me enough to not even send a pitiful glass was liquid in my time of need, or maybe he was too drunk to care, but I would show him that I didn't need his help to survive! I fashioned a broken branch into a walking stick and pulled myself onwards.

The sun beat down on me unrelentingly, and my backpack seemed to have tripled in weight. I briefly entertained the idea of leaving it, but pushed the thought aside as quickly as it came. Around me, the forest stretched for miles. Every step took more effort than the last but I refused to rest. If I sat down, I didn't know if I could pull myself back to my feet again, or just lay defeated, waiting for death to claim me.

By late afternoon, I knew that death was waiting for me. I'd seen his presence for the better part of the day, a blaze within me that threatened to consume my entire being if not put out by water. I'd stumbled repeatedly throughout the journey but it was then that I truly let myself falter and slide onto the cooling ground.

There was a slight, sweet scent that reminded me of lilies I'd seen around a pond back in district twelve. I let my eyelids succumb to the weight that had been pushing on them the entire day and lay peacefully next to the cooling mud. It reminded me of how the forests would smell after the light drapes of summer rain over the land. Thinking about it, it reminded me that I had yet to camouflage my bag pack. Maybe I should quickly get it over with, before I forgot again.

Wait. Mud. Mud! Logic brought me out of the dreamy haze that had settled over me and my eyes shot open. Quickly, my hand grabbed onto a handful of the soil beneath me and let its wetness coat my palms. With a renewed sense of hope, I dragged myself towards the source of the sweet lingering smell. Pond lilies.

I crawled through a tangle of plants, running solely on fumes, and there I saw it – the beautiful sight of water! It took all strength not to plunge my head into the water and gulp down as much as I could, but I had just enough sense and willpower to dig shaking fingers into my bag pack and pull out the water bottle. I filled it to the brim with the clear liquid and added the right amount of iodine drops into the water. It was the longest half an hour in my life, and even so, I don't think I'd reached even near to the time when temptation won out and I let myself take a sip of the life-saving liquid.

It slid coolly with the touch of velvet down my throat, tasting better than even the most expensive Capitol drink. Slowly, I let myself finish the galleon of water through the course of the next few hours. Then I carefully filled it back up just in time to set up camp for the approaching darkness. When the anthem played, no faces flashed across the sky, and I settled for a quiet night.

**X_X**

I dreamt of warmth – not quite unlike the one which I had felt when Clove had held me in her arms. She whispered soothing words in my ears and I bathed in her touch, then she leant forward such that her lips sat right at my ears and whispered, "wake up." Around me, the heat intensified.

I woke up.

**X_X**

My feet hit the ground hard but I hadn't the time to wince in pain because around me, the world was _burning. _

The belt and sleeping bad were hastily shoved into my back pack as I scrambled forward, head still dizzy from the rude awakening. My feet guided me towards an unknown direction, only my instincts saving me from death. The world burned, and it was all I could do not to go down with it.

Blood thundered in my ears as I just managed to avoid a falling branch by diving to the ground; but a second later, I was up and running for my life. The heat was horrible, but the smoke was worse. It clung to the earth and threatened to suffocate me with its poisonous fumes. It was so simple coincidence that I'd been caught in the path of the unnaturally uniform fire. It was human made, machine made. Gamemaker made.

Through the haze of terror, I managed to gather scattered thoughts. No faces had flashed across the sky the previous night. Things had been too quiet – too boring. And if there was something the Capitol dreaded more than labor, it was boredom. The gamemakers weren't trying to kill me (or at least, I didn't think so) but herd me somewhere, probably in the path of something that did want my blood spilled onto the earth.

My throat and nose burnt, ever breath of air made sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest. But I didn't dare stop.

Where was the gamemakers driving me towards? Through the roar of the fire and pounding in my ears, I could just make out a loud hiss as a large fireball engulfed the tree I had just past. That was a warning, the next one wouldn't be. When the next hiss came, I dove onto the ground and just managed to avoid being barbecued. To remain still was certain death. I pushed myself back to my feet just at the next hiss sent a large fireball hurling towards me.

There had to be an end somewhere, I thought desperately. Eventually, the walls of fire would end.

I didn't know how long I ran, but self-preservation pushed me onwards where strength and stamina could not. Then I saw an opening, just twice my width, where light had managed to seep through. It was rapidly closing, and I wasn't sure if I would make it. A suffocating sense of foreboding settled over me as I dove for it in one last desperate bid for survival.

Clove's face flashed before my eyes just as I heard a hiss. Momentum helped me avoid the worst of the burns but pain exploded where the fireball had grazed my leg. But I was out, and the fire slowly retreated away from me.

My calf screamed in pain as I rolled it about on the ground, the flames thankfully being put out in the process. A thought registered and I winced instinctively. What a laugh the Capitol must be having, the girl on fire actually being set on fire. I shivered, the reality of how close I'd been to death settling in. I hadn't taken that much time to consider just how likely I was to end up leaving the arena in a body bag. Near death situations had a way of making you reconsider your mortality I supposed.

I pulled myself back onto my feet, limping aimlessly with the sole goal of putting as much distance as possible between me and the flames. I stumbled about for several moments, blinking rapidly to moisten my eyes. The pain on my calf throbbed with every step I took and I didn't realize I'd found a pool till I was ankle-deep in it.

I plunged my hands into the blissfully cool water and set about washing the ash and sweat that clung to my skin. I was considering whether I should wash the wound on my leg when I felt _it, _and my head snapped up just in time to connect with _hers. _For a few seconds, all I could do was stare into the pools of emerald, but then I regained my senses and scrambled out of the water.

The rest of the careers had spotted me.

The tell-tale signs of Evening had begun to fog up the skies as for the second time in the day, I ran for my life. My leg slowed me down, but a quick glance back let me know the careers weren't as fast after the flames either. I could hear them calling to one another, laughing at their stroke of luck. I could hear _her _laughing.

They were slowly catching up. I knew I had no hope of outrunning them and almost resigned myself to my fate when a moment of inspiration struck and I quickly began to pull myself up the nearest tree. A hand reached up to grab my ankle, but I managed to pull my leg away in time to avoid the grip.

"Come on Cato, you're so _close_!" I wasn't sure if it had been Clove warning me or just egging her district partner on, but climbed another two meters to be safe. Back near the base of the tree, Cato gripped onto the bark and pulled himself further upwards, but the branches couldn't support his weight, and with a loud snap, he fell to the ground with a _thud. _

He hit it hard and I was hoping he'd broken his neck in the fall, but no such luck and he got back onto his feet, huffing in rage. Then I saw a glint of silver when the district one female pulled out a bow – my bow – and took aim. It became clear she was at least decent with the armament when the arrow found its mark on the bark where my head had been just a second ago. I plucked it from the tree and waved it at her mockingly, as if that was the entire reason why I'd retrieved it. In truth, I had taken it for a more practical reason. It I ever had the chance, the arrow would be sticking out of her head.

Quickly, night was descending and their window of opportunity was rapidly closing. The group whispered conspiringly among themselves and for a moment, Clove raised her head and our eyes locked, just as they had back at the pool. But just as quickly as they had connected, she lowered her gaze.

"Let's just deal with her in the morning," Peeta suggested, almost shrinking when all the careers turned their gaze to him. They'd found me. In career terms, that meant he was just that close to outliving his usefulness. "She's not going anywhere."

"Yeah," Clove said. Immediately, all the attention – and probably majority of the cameras – was on her. If the footage of our encounter in the bloodbath had been broadcasted, then the whole of Panem would be talking about the 'confirmation of our alliance' Clove had just shown. If not, everyone would just be puzzled.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not like we're in a rush or anything."

Cato looked satisfied with her answer as he dumped his bag pack onto the ground. "Set a fire. We'll deal with her in the morning."

The leader had spoken. Immediately, the Careers worked to set up camp. I slumped onto a branch, silently observing the pack. First the incident at the bloodbath and now that – was Clove trying to tell me something or was I reading too much into her actions? She avoided meeting my eyes and nearby, Peeta was doing the same. But I didn't care about him. What I wanted to know was where Clove and I stood with each other.

If one thing they'd said had been right, I definitely wasn't going anywhere. Night fell silently in the arena and the careers settled around their fire. It was a show of strength, I thought. Other than the fools and the desperate, those that valued their life wouldn't dare light a fire. They were the only group in the entire arena that could, and they certainly didn't mind letting everyone know that.

Clove would want a guard, I knew. Cato was too proud to even consider the need for it, and the district ones probably didn't even judge me a threat in the state I was in. If there was one thing I'd learnt about Clove from all our conversations, it was that she was perhaps one of the most careful people alive. Ever since her maybe sister's game, she'd vowed to never let a moment of carelessness cost her her life.

She wordlessly settled down for the night, turning so that she was facing away from the tree and certainly in no position to see what I was up to.

I wasn't going anywhere, but she was certainly opening up a possibility of it. Up above the camp, a smile made its way onto my lips. Thank you Clove, I thought.

Dinner was the small packet of crackers I was grateful to have saved. In the darkness, creatures of the night emerged, going about their usual business and paying me no attention. One particular Possum seemed quite content to study me from the foliage however, keeping its glossy eyes trained on my every move. Suddenly, I shoved myself upwards from the casual position I had previously adopted. Those weren't possum eyes – I'd seen them enough times in forests of district twelve to know. In fact, those weren't the eyes of any animal at all.

A tree away, district eleven's Rue watched me silently between the branches.

How long had she been there, silently watching all the proceedings? The whole time probably. Or at least long enough to know a gist of what had happened. Had she noticed the tension between Clove and I? Or the few looks we'd shared when the other careers we not noticing?

For many moments, we held each other's gaze. Then lifting a hand gently, without rustling a single leaf, she motioned to something above my head. Cautiously, I followed the line of her finger upwards, into the foliage. At first, I didn't know what to make of the small structure that hung off one of the branches, then it hit me – it was a tracker jacker nest.

I'd watched enough games to know about the lab engineered muttations, especially how lethal their stings could be. I look back to Rue questioningly, but she just nodded her head slightly and motioned towards the Career camp beneath. My lips curled into a smile. Clever girl.

The nest wasn't that far up the tree, I noted. There was a decent enough distance between us that I wasn't viewed as a threat, but there was no doubt that I would be a large target if I moved closer. But I was trapped and wounded, the nest may be my last option for survival. I look back to the spot which Rue had been to mouth my thanks, but she had melted back into the darkness.

I wouldn't be able to get close enough to the nest to cut it free, but the branch it was connected to would do. I thought of the serrated knife which would be perfect for sawing though it and again, I sent Clove my thanks. My best bet to take it down would be during the anthem, I thought, which would play at any time then. I took out my knife and tied it securely to my waist so that I could free it in a moment's notice. I packed up my sleeping bag and rose steadily to pull myself higher up the tree, but before my fingers found a branch and slimmer of silver caught my eye.

About three feet to my right, a silver parachute slowly descended. Immediately, I reached out an arm to grab the gift. Sponsors!

There was a small plastic pot that fit snugly into the palm on my hand and I immediate freed it, keeping the parachute in my bag in case I had need of it further into the games. What could it be? I eased off the cover and probed the strange substance inside with a finger and immediately, the throbbing discomfort on the tip vanished.

"Thank you," I whispered. Haymitch hadn't abandoned me after all! The price of it must have been colossal and no doubt more than once sponsor had banded together to send it to me. I took mental note to be more careful from then on, because the sponsors may not be as generous the next time.

I quickly spread the medicine on my calf and like magic, the pain disappeared in a burst of coolness. I slid the pot into my bag pack and zipped it shut before grasping onto the first branch and pulling myself upwards. It was a much easier task without the burn slowing me down and I quickly made it to the branch where the tracker jacker nest was connected.

As if on cue – and perhaps it was – the seal of the Capitol shone on the sky and the anthem sounds. Quickly, I freed my knife and began sawing through the wood. It was an awkward procedure and I glanced up quickly to note that there were no deaths that day. No matter, I was sure the viewers were entertained enough by my bid for survival – and possibly taking out a few other competitors while at it. When the anthem was done, the branch was just barely supporting itself, but then a though struck me.

I quickly glanced downwards.

Beneath me, Clove was definitely not asleep, but instead as awake as could be and studying my actions closely. I made a sawing motion, waving her knife for emphasis, but she clearly knew what I was up to. Beside her sat a full bag pack and where her sleeping bag should have been was dry earth. Clove had always been the careful one, I was reminded instantly.

She motioned to the branch in a go-ahead signal and I return my attention back to sawing it off. Then I felt it – a stabbing pain on my knee. A tracker jacker had found me and I knew that the rest would soon. My best bet would be to quickly get it done with and I continued my sawing with a renewed purpose. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I could hear the buzz and more tracker jackers began to wake up and I felt a second sting on my skin. When I counted the third, I knew I had to move faster. With one last saw and a shove, the tracker jacker nest was sent freefalling into the ground below. For a few moments, there was complete silence; then chaos erupted.

The nest burst open like an egg and tracker jackers spilled from it in an endless warm. Clove was already long gone and the rest of the group woke to an all-out attack. They didn't notice their missing member in the confusion and I could hear the cries of, "to the lake!" as they scrambled for safety. The three males left quickly in an effort to evade the angry wasps by taking to the water, but Glimmer wasn't so lucky.

I winced at the sound of her desperate screams and even though I knew that she would have happily killed me if our places had been reversed, it was a gruesome way to die. She screamed for help, but of course, no one returned. She twitched on the ground for a few minutes to the buzzing of the insects, but then went completely still. Where the nest was once filled, it was nothing but an empty shell. I doubted the tracker jackers would return, but I didn't want to risk it and quickly scampered down the tree.

I started off in the opposite direction of the lake but then a thought registered. Even unconscious, Glimmer's fingers were still clasped around the bow. The tracker jackers had left in pursuit of more prey and though my mind screamed at me to run, to get as far away from the careers as possible, I simply refused to let the bow slip from my grasp again.

The venom of the insects made my vision hazy and limbs clumsy. I slowly staggered towards my precious bow, feet dragging heavily. How many stings had I gotten? Eight, nine, ten? I'd lost count after the sixth. What remained of the breathtakingly beautiful girl was unrecognizable, looking more like a lab muttation than an actual human being. She was still breathing, I could see. I had enough humanity left in me to offer my foes a respectful passing, but she held something I needed.

The food I had taken churned in my stomach and threatened to escape, but I couldn't bear to leave the weapon when it was right within my grasp. Slowly, I bent down to pry the bow from her fingers, but the digits were clamped shut around it. I tugged at it harder, but her fingers still would not budge. I realized with a pang that she _couldn't _let it go – the venom had frozen her limbs solid. She was still breathing while liquid fire flowed through her veins.

I'm sorry, I thought, reaching for a ragged stone that lay on the ground. The knife had been stored in the bag pack and I didn't think I could retrieve it in my state. I bring the rock down on her fingers, and in her state of unconsciousness, the pain never registered. Again and again, I stabbed the edge of the rock onto her fingers until enough had actually broken off that I could pull the bow from her grasp. Then I was reminded of the sheath of arrows pinned under her back.

I struggled with it for minutes, working out the best way to slip it off Glimmer's swollen shoulders, but I finally managed. My head spinning, I grabbed the bow and arrows and hobbled towards the trees. My vision was beginning to swim and I didn't know if it was the hallucination when I heard the approaching footsteps? Had it been that long? Were the careers coming back to kill me? I slumped down against a tree, face in my palm as the pounding in my head intensified.

"What are you still doing here?" Someone hissed, and I could just make out the face as Peeta's. "Go!" He shook my shoulder and pushed me lightly in the direction of the trees. "Get up Katniss!"

Behind him, Cato burst from the bush. Holding tightly onto my bow and arrows, I decided to do just as Peeta had said (demanded). I kept tripping and falling as I struggled to keep my balance under the influence of the venom, but I managed to make it past the first few trees. When I swung around to give the area one last glance, it was Clove who stood facing Cato, knives clutched in her hands.

Then I tripped over a root and sprawled forward. I should have hit the ground within a second, but instead, I was freefalling into a dark abyss. But then the darkness recoiled and around me, a field of flowers bloomed. The scene flashes back to a familiar rooftop, the one above the training center then it flickered and I was back on stage on the night of the interview.

A lazy haze drew in around my vision and I blacked out.

**X_X**

I dreamt of home, back when our family was complete. But even then, something was missing.

I dreamt of the training center, where Clove and I had first spoken, then traded memories though out the night.

I dreamt of Clove, on the night of the interview, where I'd decided I'd never seen something as beautiful.

I dreamt of Clove, laughing as she held my hand in hers.

I dreamt of Clove _that night. _She leant forward to kiss me, but I didn't pull away.

I dreamt of Clove, holding me. A soothing warmth spread across me as I lay in her touch, but she bent forward, so that her lips brushed lightly on my ears and whispered, "wake up."

**X_X**

I woke up

**Thank you all the wonderful people who'd generously left me encouragement. Everything I write is solely for you all! **

**Nothing is really set in stone right now so things and events can still be easily changed. Just tell me what you want and I'll try my best to fit everything in. As always, you are strongly encourage to leave me a review and make my week. Until next time! (I love you all!)**


	6. Rebirth

**Chapter 6: Meet Me In The Rain**

**A:N/ I'm sorry D: I've just been really busy preparing for my finals (October 8, and I'm not even half done!) and they're kinda important. Don't worry, you guys are still my first priority and I don't want to let anything stop me from continuing this. But could you maybe be kind and give me two weeks for the next chapter? Please. Could be even shorter, because I'm really excited and want to find out what happens next too. **

**My ramblings aside, thank you all so much for sticking with this! Extra thanks go out to everyone who has taken the time to review, alert or put this on favorites. Bonus cookie points if you did all three :D **

**And now, please enjoy!**

"_So," I began, shifting in her hold so I could look right in her eyes. "What do you want to do after… all of this?" _

_It was a question we had been avoiding – or anything related to the games for that matter. It had been an unspoken agreement that we sidestepped all reminders that we probably weren't going to lead a very long and intact life. Even though I may have just crossed the figurative line, it was something I needed to know and I couldn't bring myself to regret putting the question out there._

_For a few moments, we sat in silence. _

"_When I was younger," I began cautiously. "I wanted to become a herbalist when I grew up." _

_Clove gave an unbelieving snort and looked to me with disbelief. I read her expression perfectly. _

"_Really, it's true!" I said, laughing at the absurdity of it all. "My mom was one, so I had wanted to be just like her." _

_She just looked awkward then, uncomfortable with the knowledge that the subject of my mother brought me pain. I snuggled into her, letting her warmth envelop me. _

"_It's ok, you don't have to tell me." _

_No words were exchanged, but we were both content to bask in each other's presence. The hypnotizing beat of her heart lulled me and I was in a state to semi-consciousness when she chuckled softly and planted a kiss on my temple. Silence. Then she spoke; a soft whisper that was almost melodious. "I wanted to be the president," she said. _

"_So that no one else would have to die."_

I almost threw myself face-first into the ground in my haste to get up, _her _name fresh on my lips.

For a few moments, the world spun lazily. I sat dumbly on the ground as my senses slowly returned and cautiously patted myself down to make sure I was fully intact. How long had I been out? Light seeped through the thick foliage, painting everything in its path a warm gold. It could have been just a few hours, but the stiffness in my muscles and joints suggested it had been longer. The dream-state that I had been trapped in made it impossible to tell the time. Then I realized something with a start:

I'd missed the cannons – I had no way of knowing who had made it out of the attack alive.

My throat rumbled in a groan. Great. Just my luck. Then a voice spoke and for the first time, I realized that I wasn't as alone as I had thought.

"It's the girl from two, isn't it?"

My fingers gripped onto my bow sturdily as my head snapped up in alarm. Just a few meters away, Rue stood nervously behind the shelter of a tree, an eye peeking out from behind the great oak. Fright swirled in her eyes and I realize that she was scared. Of me.

Gently, I let my precious bow fall softly onto the ground and held up the empty palms of my hand as a peace gesture. "It's ok," I said gently, like a mother to a scared child. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She must have decided that my words were sincere enough, because she started slowly towards me, and I kept both hands up just to show her that I wasn't going to go back on my words. "What did you mean? When you ask whether it was the girl from two?"

Her brows scrunched up. "Clove." The name rolled off her tongue delicately, as if she'd only just heard the word and wanted to test it on her lips. She still looked nervous, unknowing of what to expect of my reaction to the question.

"You said her name in your sleep," she continued in a breath, and instantly, I could feel my face heat up in a way that I hoped wasn't completely obvious.

"Oh," I said lamely. "Just a bad dream."

Of course, the dreams hadn't been bad. At all. The abrupt changes between the scenes kept me in a state of confusion, but all in all, they'd been actually quite lovely… Rue peered at me curiously. She must have completely seen through my lie, but didn't point me out on it, something I was immensely grateful for. I definitely didn't want to explain my dreams to every citizen of Panem.

Especially when the last one had included Clove's soft lips against my own.

"Is she your ally?" the small girl asked carefully, still testing the waters between us. Smart girl. If I were her, I wouldn't exactly trust myself either.

"Yes." The single-worded answer escaped my lips before I even began to question the answer. Even after everything, I still didn't quite know where we stood, but perhaps I wanted it to be true so much that my first reaction was to fake an answer I didn't have.

It was like we'd taken (or she'd taken, literally) one step forward and twenty back, because all of a sudden, the fear was back full force. Oh, right. I was 'allied' with Clove, the _career _from district 2. The one with the sharp throwing knives.

"It's complicated," I offered, unsure of what that would achieve but just having to put it out there anyway. "I'm just not sure of what's happening anymore."

There you have it Panem – your answer since the starting of the games. Clove and Katniss could be allies… or not. But Katniss wasn't completely sure, you see? And Clove wasn't within a hundred yards right then, so Katniss couldn't exactly ask the overly-complicated career with a penchant of hiding much more under the surface than she was letting on. And Katniss thinks that she might just have a teeny-weenie crush on her, but Panem didn't exactly know that last bit.

"I know," Rue nodded slowly, and my eyes snapped up so fast I could hear a crack.

"Everything is just so confusing," she said, and I nodded along to her words, relief flooding me with the knowledge that Rue didn't exactly 'know' after all.

Silence.

"You know, that doesn't mean we can't be allies." The words were out of my mouth before I could push them down my throat and hide their weight in the pit of my stomach.

"You want me for an ally?" Rue asked, voice laced with disbelief.

I shrugged. "Why not? You're smart enough to stay alive, and you did help me with the tracker jackers."

She blinked, trying to grasp the sincerity of my words. "But what about Clove?"

There, she said her name again. And I couldn't help but feel a wave of concern surge up at the thought of the career. Had she escaped the attack? Had the careers regrouped and could she be with them at that same instant? So many questions, but I had to force them down. "She'll just have to deal with it."

I smiled at the thought. No doubt, Clove would nag at me for hours for picking up someone she probably considered 'useless'. Then she'd to convince me to dump Rue (because she would know she could never convince me to kill her – she'd understand) but I wouldn't back down. And after half an hour, Clove would cross her arms across her chest in a huff and ignore me for the next five minutes. But she would never hold it against me, and would cave by the ten minute mark, and we would be back to being best friends again.

The smile dimmed slightly and took on a sadder edge.

We really needed to talk while there was still time. I needed her to understand that the act of betrayal she thought she had witnessed was really just a misunderstanding. I was closer to figuring out my feelings every passing second, and she might just provide the final push I needed to come to a realization.

"Ok," Rue said. And in my haze covered mind, it took me a moment to understand the full meaning behind the word. I'd just gotten my first ally! Or at least, a sure one. Then I grinned, and patted the ground beside me in invitation. She noticeably took a gulp of courage before approaching, but it didn't do a thing to muddy the escalation I was feeling. It was hard to trust people, especially when you were in the Hunger Games.

"You hungry?" I asked, unzipping my bag pack and rummaging through its surprisingly large amount of content. And I was grateful that I had the foresight to 'save up for a rainy day' or whatever people at the seams used to say. It wasn't something that made a particular amount of sense, but it seemed to fit the situation well enough.

Rue looked at me with curiosity as I pulled out a large, leaf-wrapped package. I quickly untied the roots that held as make-shift ropes and unwrapped the leaves, revealing a dead bird of some sort, skinned and void of blood. I proudly presented it to the girl, a wide grin spread on my face at hearing the rumble of her stomach.

We had a fire set up within a minute, the bird roasting with some roots Rue had found. The meat was juicy and tender, and while it couldn't be compared to the standards of capitol food, there was no doubt that the two of us were having the most delicious meal in the whole of the arena. The cold, preserved food the careers ate would never be able to compare.

"I'd never had a whole leg before," Rue said in awe, slowly nibbling at the precious meat. I looked at her skinny figure. I could see the bones poking out from beneath the skin, making her look smaller than she already was.

I cut off the other leg and held it out to her. "Take it," I offered.

"Really?" she asked.

I gave her my most reassuring smile. "Take it. I can always get more." Her eyes lit up and she carefully took the leg off my hand, giving me her most grateful smile. It warmed my heart, and I was instantly struck by how similar she was to Prim. They could have been great friends, under different circumstances.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, but then I realized in a start that I'd forgotten the first thing I should have asked her.

"How long was I out for?"

"Two days," she said, but seemed to realized where I was going with it when she added, "the girl from district one is dead. There's ten of us left."

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Clove was fine.

"I'm not sure, and it could have been the tracker jacker venom making me see things," I said. "But I saw my district partner, Peeta. I think I he saved me, but he was with the careers." Short, disjointed memories flashed through my mind's eyes, and the image of Clove standing opposite Cato looped repeatedly. "And Clove too. Maybe."

Rue nodded. "Neither of them are with the careers now." What? I looked to her in pure disbelief. "I spied on their camp. Maybe they did save you, and had to split from the pack."

I sat silently for a few moments, mind struggling to process this new turn of events. There was a new possibility – growing in size so rapidly I could no longer push it aside and ignore it – that Peeta and Clove had fought for me that night two days ago; to allow me to get away safely. My heart warmed at the mental image of Clove standing up against her district partner for me, but at the same time, it brought a hot flash of fear.

Clove (and Peeta, whom I did feel a sense of gratitude towards, but he wasn't as important compared to Clove) could be in any state of wellbeing then. She was still alive, but that didn't mean she was healthy and perfectly functioning. She could even be writing in agony somewhere in the arena, defenseless and open to assault from even the second smallest tribute.

Panic gripped my heart in its cold hands but I tried to fight it off. There was nothing I could do for her then, and Clove was strong. She would be fine.

"So two of them left in a pack?" I asked.

Rue shook her head. "The boy from three joined them."

The boy from three. I was instantly reminded of a short, skinny figure with barely an ounce of fat. He was a greasy-faced boy who'd gotten a five training, with delicate hands that probably couldn't lift an axe, much less wield it to ward off a squirrel. What would the careers possibly want with him? We were they short-handed and desperate after Clove's unexpected departure that they had resorted to, Haymitch forbid, letting go of their pride and recruiting a 'useless' tribute?

Rue sensed the unasked question and continued, "they had him working on something with the mines. It was late, so I couldn't stay to see why."

That was interesting. And I almost let the matter go when a thought sparked from within my mind and roared into an inferno in a second's notice. My whole body lightened.

"Hey, Rue?" I said, a feral-like grin stretching across the expanse of my face.

She turned to look at me, instantly noticing the excitement oozing out from my pores. "Yes?"

"So this is the Hunger Games, and other than warding off predators and other tributes, we have to keep ourselves fed, right?"

"Right," she nodded, still unsure of where I was going with it.

"But only those of us who can hunt or gather food would be able to avoid that, and hunger would weaken everyone else who'd never had to stave it off before."

Understanding. That was what made her eyes widen and look at me with curiosity and maybe even a renewed sense of hope. "But _they're _not hungry, Katniss." The careers weren't hungry. They still had all those supplies from the Cornucopia, and the stock could last them for weeks, or certainly much longer than the time it required for 9 deaths before the victor was announced.

My smile meandered into a cross between 'plotting' and 'hopeful'. "I think we're going to have to fix that, Rue."

**X_X**

From my position in the bush, I let my eyes scan the expanse of land that made up the careers' camp.

True to Rue's words, the only careers left were the two males from one and two, and tagging along was the scrawny boy from three. He hadn't made an impression on me in my stay in the capitol, but he was from three, the district whose main industry was technology. Rue had said they he did something with the mines, and there was no doubt he was just as deadly a threat as any career could be.

A smirk tugged at my lips when I noticed the bumps covering all four tributes' skin. I had only taken a few stings that night, and all physicals signs had already faded. Their poorer physical condition was something I would gratefully exploit.

The Cornucopia sat in its original position, golden shell glittering in the morning sun, but its contents had been stripped clean and piled in a pyramid a questionable distance from the camp. The whole setup was strange. The boy from three, the lack of defense for the supplies, it all added up to something more. One thing I was sure of was that destroying everything would not be as simple as I had thought.

While my eyes studied every inch of the area around the supplies, Cato suddenly stood up from his lazy perch and for a moment, I was afraid that he'd somehow seen me, but he shouted to get the other tributes' attention and pointed out towards the woods, far from my spot. Without turning, I knew that it must have been Rue. She'd set the first camp fire.

They broke out into an argument, and for every second they stayed, my nerves grew. I willed them to just move, but they seemed to have come to an agreement that the district 3 tribute should go with them and I strained my ears to hear their words.

"What about lover boy," the boy from one asked.

Cato smirked. "I'll like to see him try." The evilness of the smile set me on the edge. There was something deadly about the supplies. They must have been booby trapped. Poison, concealed pit, the possibilities were endless. But I had to figure out the main function of the trap before I could do anything about what it protected.

"What if Clove comes back? We still don't know where she is or where she ran during the attack."

For a moment, Cato seemed to consider the words, then he shrugged and started towards the woods. "Her loss then. We don't need her, and it's her problem she ran someone else instead of the lake."

That seemed to satisfy the other career, and the group broke off in a jog towards the billowing smoke. I fumed. Their loss that Clove quote, "want them all dead" and would gladly betray their worthless asses. Then they crossed pass the tree line and I was instantly reminded of my task at hand.

For a few minutes, I sat dumbly on the ground, failing at coming up with any explanation for the trap that lay in my way of destroying the supplies. The only advantage I had was distance, but even then, there was nothing I could do to take the whole pile out short of approaching it and doing it manually. That was out.

I was resigned to my failure when, from the corner of my eyes, something darted out from the tree line. My head snapped around and focused onto the target. It was the girl from five, Foxface. I hadn't expected her to last so long into the competition. Her head snaps left, then right, and when she was sure there was no one in the area, she took off towards the supplies.

Warn her! My conscience screamed, what was left of my humanity begging me to seek salvation in the saving of someone from a gruesome death. But it was my chance! She would let me know what I was facing. Then she stopped suddenly, at the edge of the ring of supplies littered around the pyramid. A myriad of emotions broke to the surface, but before I could be sure, she was off again, taking a strange series of movements that reminded me of a game I'd once played back at district twelve as a child.

It was called Mines. A series of objects called the "mines" were put around the centerpiece, the "prize". What we had to do was to come up with a way to get to the "prize" the fastest, and if we touched the "mines", we were "blown up". But the thing was, the "mines" were usually gray stones that matched the tone of the ground perfectly, so it was hard to see them. Sometimes, they went so unnoticed, people would walk right over them.

I blinked. A set of memories rushed to my mind. Of course! That was what the district 3 boy had been doing with the mines. It'd completely slipped my mind in my state of anxiousness. I could have missed it and never known.

Back to the mines, Foxface took one last leap and she stood right in front of the supplies, still completely unscathed. She grabbed a few apples and crackers into her bag, just enough to avoid any suspicious and did her 'dance' out from the mine field. And she was off, running back to the safety of the trees.

Dull grey rocks litter the forest floor and I picked one up, testing its weight. I had a pretty good arm, and it probably didn't take a lot of pressure to set the mines off. Set one off, and they might spark a chain reaction. But I couldn't be sure. The boy from three had been smart enough to reactivate the mines, who's to say he hadn't positioned them in such a way that the explosion of a single mine wouldn't disturb the others, therefore ensuring that the intruder got blown to bits, yet protecting the supplies from damage.

The smoke of Rue's fire thinned gradually. By then, the careers – however dumb they were – would have begun to suspect some sort of trick. I needed to hurry up.

But maybe what I needed, was thirty arms; or at least the ability to throw thirty rocks in quick succession to guarantee the demolition of the supplies. Maybe a piles of rocks to drop down from the sky, doing my job for me and sparing me of more mental torture. I looked up. No such luck.

My eyes searched the area once over, hoping to spot some clue to the entire problem. There was an oil can, but I dismissed the thought. Too risky. Then I spotted it: the burlap of apples, and my hope replenishes.

I knew what I had to do. I lifted the arrow off my back and carefully moved into range before nocking an arrow and aligning the bow. All eyes were on me. The gamemakers would make sure of that. The first arrow tears through the air and ripped one of the strings holding the bag together, but it wasn't enough. So I took aim again, and released the second one. It widened the hole.

I took a gulp of breath and tried to calm my beating heart. One more try, before I called it quits. Spending more arrows would from then on would be come at a price I feared I could not afford. My eyes closed shut and I steadied my arm, trying to bask in memories of previous successful shots. The forests. Of how I would hit a squirrel right between the eyes. And the image of Clove suddenly resurfaced and my pulse quickened.

Clove would laugh at my nerves if she'd seen it. She would have told me to believe in myself, make the shot, and bitch slap the careers. And it was the last push of confidence I needed. The arrow slipped through my fingers.

For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time. Then the first apple fell, and the world ends in an explosion.

**X_X**

I was running, my breath escaping in short bursts. And all I could hear was the shrill scream of, "Katniss" ringing in my ears.

Rue was in trouble. I needed to help her.

Then I see her, the panic in her eyes and the desperation in her scream. My hand stretched out towards her, telling her that everything was going to be fine. I was coming for her, and she would be safe. Then in less than a blink of an eye, a spear entered her body and everything I'd ever known crashed around me.

**X_X**

And I must have been dreaming; because standing protectively in front of me, blocking the boy from one from my path, was none other than Clove. My Clove.

The boy pulled his spear back to ready a throw.

A scream. Then I realized that it was my own.

**I have completely no idea where the first part comes in. Let's avoid the obvious plot hole now. **

**A:N/ Ladies and gentlemen, this officially marks the entrance of Clove into the Hunger Games as Katniss' ally! And there's one thing you guys might find interesting in the next chapter, because as far as I know, it's never been done before in any Clovniss story :D Yes, I came up with something half-way original. **

**As always, I love you all. And reviews are always treasured :D**


	7. One Real Thing

**Chapter 7: One Real Thing**

**I do not own The Hunger Games or anything I can be sued for. However, I do own everything else :D Now, please enjoy**

**Special thanks to all those who kicked me in the butt to power up my writing drive. This is for you.**

I'd thought that I would know how someone looked like when they died.

I should know it better than most after all, since my livelihood depended on it. You could always tell when the eyes start to dim, because the window to the soul is through the eyes, or so my father had said. When someone dies, the brightness in them fades till they're nothing more than glassy, soulless orbs.

Then you knew.

"No." The whisper fell from my lips breathlessly.

There were a million words I could have said but they froze in my throat and all I could manage was a choked sob.

The metal tip of the spear glinted as it caught the sunlight and sliced cleanly through the air, cutting a path that would have hit me right in my midriff. That was, if she hadn't been blocking its path. The unstoppable force met the immovable object.

Maybe I'd always been wrong. There wasn't a dimming of eyes to be seen, or a final breath wheezing out through parted lips to be heard, but I knew anyway. It always felt like something you could just _feel. _

But there wasn't the explosion I'd been promised.

For a full three seconds, the world stared and waited with bated breaths. Just waiting.

And Clove laughed.

**^_^ (because I find a divider appropriate)**

It was a loud, deep laugh – almost like she'd just heard the most hilarious joke. But only someone who _knew _her would be able to pick up on the almost hysterical edge.

The entire universe seemed to freeze for another second, then the spear fell limply from Clove's hands and just like that, the spell was broken. Hundreds of things happened simultaneously. Little things like my jaw dropping and a small laugh of disbelief and joy escaping my lips. And large things, like the roar of applause and cheering that was guaranteed from the capitol. They always did love a good show.

But none of that mattered. Because Clove was unharmed, and that was the only thing I needed to know.

The boy from one stared in muted shock.

"I'd invite you to try again," Clove said with a shrug and feral grin on her lips. "But you're all out of tries now, aren't you?"

The gentle shaking of her shoulders had stopped and she looked every bit the strong, confident career that she'd been trying to sell for days. She looked like she hadn't completely intended to trade her life for mine. She didn't look like she'd just so narrowly escaped death at all.

For a brief moment, the careers squared off. Tension lashed out in thick coils, but there was no doubt about it. There was no version of it that he would come out on top.

The dozen knife hilts peeked out from her vest encouragingly.

The boy turned tail and ran.

I fully expected Clove to give chase. Because isn't that what careers are meant to do? To win the games? You can't exactly do that if no one dies. But she didn't, and instead just watched him silently until he'd fled past the tree line and we couldn't see his back even if we'd squinted.

I silently wondered about the repercussions the whole matter would bring. Clove had single-handedly caused the disbandment of Careers' Alliance, let a competitor flee and risked her life for another tribute with nothing to make up for it. Except a wicked skill in spear catching; but really.

I could already see the sponsor money dwindling in my head, and along with it, Clove's chances of winning the games.

And It was all for me.

She let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh and for a second, I wondered if she'd heard what I was thinking. Then she turned and a current of electricity shot up through my veins, heating my blood and making my heart pound almost painfully against my chest. And to think I'd almost forgotten the beautiful green of her eyes.

I broke the connection first. Curved around the shaft of the spear, Rue lay in a pool of crimson. She coughed and a trickle of blood escaped from parted lips and burned a trail down the grass.

I didn't notice the bow lying just a few feet away or the Clove's nervous eyes boring into my back, because at that moment, it was just Rue and I, and the wrench in my chest accompanied by that single line repeating through my mind like a mantra. I'd failed Rue.

She was going to die.

Was I a horrible person? Because even while Rue lay limply on the ground bleeding out, she still came in second in my mind and heart. She reached out her fingers and I clasped them tightly in my grasp, offering her all the comfort I could provide. She deserved better. Everyone did.

"You blew up the food?" she whispered.

I nodded furiously, blinking away the tears. "Every last bit."

And despite everything – her injuries, the reality of her situation – she smiled, and even the aura of death that had begun to seep deep into the soil was forced to flee by pure brightness of it. She reminded me so much of Prim at that instant, and I couldn't help but imagine my sister in her place. They'd have made great friends. In another time, another world.

"You'll protect Katniss won't you?"

It took me a moment to realize that the question was directed at Clove, who stood behind me watching the scene with a look of cold indifference. She tensed noticeably, as if the words were poison, and studied Rue calculatingly. Then she must have found whatever she was looking for, because she offered a single, rigid nod in Rue's direction.

I felt my heart swell with emotions. I could get used to it, I thought. But maybe I already had. Everything Clove had done from the start was to protect me after all.

"Win for me," she said, so softly that I'd almost missed it. Then I knew. I didn't need the cannon shot to know.

No living creature could remain so still.

A choke tore its way from my throat, and for several moments I just knelt on the ground, Rue's still warm hand in mine. I didn't noticed Clove moving up and crouching beside me until she spoke. "Katniss, we've got to go now," she said, with un-clove-like gentleness. "I don't know how far away Cato is."

And slowly, I rested Rue's hand by her side. She looked so small, just lying there. If you could ignore the spear protruding from her stomach, she looked just like a sleeping child.

"We should hurry," Clove reminded me. Be logical, I reminded myself. There wasn't any time in the Hunger Games for sentimentality. And yet…There was something about the Rue's vulnerability that drew me in, even after her death. I couldn't leave her like this. There had got to be something I could do.

Then I remembered. I'd cut through field of flowers before, and I'd nearly forgotten with the haze of panic clouding my mind. Then I'd better hurry.

In one swift motion, I yanked a knife from Clove's vest and began to cut the straps of Rue's bag pack. She wouldn't need it now that she'd… moved on to a better place. And she would have wanted me to have them, I thought. Clove pursed her lips in a thoughtful expression, not knowing how to react at my sudden change of attitude. I shoved the bag in her arms.

She raised that annoying (cute) eyebrow to read: when did I become your servant?

I slid the knife back into its sheath. "Please, just give me a minute." She didn't say anything after that.

The spear in Rue's stomach lay untouched, but Clove picked up the one she'd caught and tested its weight in her hand. Whether for practical reasons or to hang on to it as a temporary memento I didn't know. Quickly, I gathered an armful of flowers and decorated Rue with it. I stood back and took one final look. She really did look like an angel, I marveled.

Pressing the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips I offered Rue a final salute, then I walked away without looking back. Clove fell in beside me, newly acquired spear in one hand and Rue's bag pack in another. "Got anywhere you need to be?"

"No." I shook my head. The brief sense of home I'd felt with Rue was already gone, and all that was left was a reminder that I couldn't look back. It was a sure way to get killed.

"Then I guess you're coming with me," she grinned. "I've got a gift waiting for you back at camp. If you don't like it, feel free to throw it away."

I was surprised. I knew that she'd split from the careers back at the tracker jacker nest, but had she managed to pick someone up from the cornucopia? I wanted to ask her for a hint, but she shot me a mischievous smile and I knew I wouldn't be getting anything out of her.

I could already feel the tension ease out of my body as I settled back into a sense of familiarity. Then a thought struck me.

"How did you find me?"

She shrugged. "I heard an explosion, so I went out to investigate. Then I heard someone scream your name. The rest they say, is history."

That certainly sounded reasonable enough. "Good for me that you were close enough I guess."

"I think everyone heard that," she laughed. "It was pretty impossible to miss. What did you do anyway?"

Smiling, I launched into a tale of sabotage and evil, and at the end of it, Clove applauded. There was a look in her eyes, a mixture of respect and pride, I noted, and felt my spirits lighten considerably. I'd won the Clove's respect in the arena. Now that was a feat.

"Thanks for saving me." Thanks for risking your life for mine came to mind. But that went unsaid. I wasn't sure if there ever would be a right time to bring it up. But looking at how quickly Clove tensed up, I had a feeling that that was a discussion she didn't want broadcasted for the entire world to see.

"No problem," she said, a forced smile settling back onto her face. "Though make sure to return the favor some time."

I laughed, stretching out my hand for a handshake. "You've got yourself a deal."

Clove shoved the bag pack into my arms. With a shout of triumph, she marched away, raising the spear up and down like a victorious barbarian. I giggled slightly at her childishness. As a picked up speed to catch up to Clove, a silver parachute floats down in front of me.

"What've you got there?" Clove studied the small bundle curiously. "C'mon, open it."

My fingers pried off the tight wrappings. It was a small loaf of bread. But different from the capitol grade ones. It was made of dark ration grain, shaped in a crescent and sprinkled with seeds.

It came from District 11. I was sure of it.

I could already imagine the cost of sending it, especially heavy for the people of District 11 who couldn't even feed themselves. It must have been meant for Rue, but instead of pulling the gift after she'd died, they'd given it to me, for reasons I did not know. I lift my face upwards. "My thanks to the people of District Eleven."

"Well, you're certainly breaking a lot of records this year," Clove remarked, then shot the camera a quick salute.

We picked up speed as the sunlight started to fade, to a destination that my trusty companion swore was "just right ahead". Admit it Clove, we're lost. But seemingly true enough, she soon pointed to somewhere up ahead and grinned triumphantly. Honestly, I didn't see the difference between that clump of trees and the many, many clumps we'd passed by.

Fate seemed to like proving me wrong, because it became clear soon enough.

"Peeta," I gasped.

"Clove!" He roared. "Where were you all this time? You wanted to abandon me again didn't you? I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

"Cool your pants lover boy," Clove smirked. "You're just too slow to keep up with all that meat you eat!"

"Maybe you should eat more, then you wouldn't be so short!"

Clove looked indignant. "You're just a clumsy oaf! Cato would've cut you in half if I hadn't been there!"

"Yeah, and Cato would have cut you into tiny pieces!" Peeta yelled, then added smugly. "Not that there would have been many pieces to cut."

"Hey, take that back!"

I giggled. "It's true Clove, you're… petite."

She roared in fury.

"Oh hey, Katniss." Peeta greeted and turned to laugh at Clove. Then he did a double take and swerved back violently to face me. "Katniss!"

Needless to say, we spent the next hour trading stories of our time in the arena. Peeta studied my reactions cautiously, trying to decide whether I'd forgiven him for the interview incident yet. Meanwhile, Clove fumed at a corner. So Clove was sensitive about her height. Who knew?

I'd decided to push Rue's death to the back of my head and concentrate on the present. The only way for me to avenge her was to kill the remaining male careers, and to do that, I'll have to stay as sharp as possible.

I added my rations to theirs. We had a grand total of one loaf of District 11 bread, Rue's roots and nuts, a bit of rabbit, 5 strips of beef and one apple. "The apple's yours Katniss," Clove said and shot Peeta a glare which he returned.

The reason? They couldn't figure out how to share that last apple. And they didn't trust each other to split the portions either. I shook my head disbelievingly.

No wonder not much had happened the past day. The Capitol must have been so amused by those two they decided that even gory deaths paled in comparison. Speaking of which, we were running dangerously low on supplies. And since Peeta failed horribly in the art of gathering supplies and Clove had probably never practiced it, it was up to me to gather it. How long would they have been able to stay in the games with no supplies and a strong urge to kill each other?

I thanked whatever deity would listen for my timely arrival in their group.

Though maybe Clove would have offed Peeta and lived off sponsor gifts for a decent number of days. A cooked turkey falls from the sky, and I felt an immediate sense of relief for Clove. It meant a grand total of three things. Clove's mentors didn't hate her for her part in the disbandment of the Careers' alliance and splitting with her district partner. (Who knew, maybe they hated that arrogant jackass Cato too) Clove hadn't lost any popularity for saving me.

And the most important one: people believe that the three of us had a high chance of making it late into the games.

**^_^ (moar dividers!)**

I woke up to an arguing.

That wouldn't have been any surprise, except that I had woken up to whispered arguing in concerned voices. Now that is something to be deeply concerned about. Both their mouths snapped shut the moment they realized that I was awake.

They shared a nervous glance.

"Er Katniss?" they started. "There's something you need to know."

**A:N/2 I'm so, so, so very sorry D: I know I'm an ass (especially for the cliffie) for leaving this story un-continued for so long. I owe you guys some serious explaining. **

**- Although I don't have a life (I live for you guys, remember?), I'd many things to do. Stupid homework. **

**- I just couldn't find the right words for this chapter. I rewrote it so many times before coming up with something half decent to work with, and I just didn't want to disappoint you guys with anything worse. **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The real plot advancement comes next chapter, which I shall begin on once I finish this cup of coffee. Thanks guys for sticking around and bearing with me :D As usual, if you have the time, please drop in a review. **

**Yours sincerely,**

**Turkey in a suit**


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